


The Heart of Human Interaction

by ConstantCommentTea



Series: The Interaction Series [4]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Adventure, Angel's Kind Of A Bastard, Confessions, Emotional Baggage, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Growing Up, Old Friends, Parenting Worst Fears, Reveal, Time Travel, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 66,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantCommentTea/pseuds/ConstantCommentTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now they'd done it. The Powers That Be were usually pretty good about foreseeing these kinds of events. And they foresaw this one: it was just a tad too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Note on Pairings:** This is mostly A/C friendship and A/OCs friendship. The A/C friendship is based on the fact that they once had romantic feelings for each other, so it verges on a true A/C pairing, but I really don’t think that anything shippy (or not) that happens (or not) in this piece will ruin the story for anyone, regardless of shipping preference. This is not a shipping fic (on the fluff/smut spectrum, anyway. There is some lovely sexual tension, though).
> 
>  **Other Notes:** Though this is the fourth piece in this series, I don’t think you need to read the others to understand this story. It would certainly help to read the other two _Interaction_ s because they explore how Angel met and became friends with William, Calder, and Judith, but this story does not significantly build on anything that happened, event-wise, in the first two. 
> 
> _The Art of Vampire Interaction_ is only four chapters long and takes place just a few months before this story, so if you want to get a quick idea of this world, I recommend reading that one.
> 
>  **Context:** For those of you who haven’t read the other stories, this takes place about 200 years in the future in Galway, Ireland, where Angel is living alone. Two young boys, William and Calder, wormed their way into Angel’s life and now, 8 years later, Angel (reluctantly) considers them friends and is an unintentional mentor to them. He is also more recently friends with William’s mother Judith, who, as an amateur historian, finds Angel fascinating and, as a mother, finds him somewhat threatening. Angel, in turn, finds her unflinching honesty and (thus far) unwillingness to judge his past actions refreshing. Also, as a mother, he finds her a little bit terrifying. There is no romantic attraction between them.

Now they'd done it. The Powers That Be were usually pretty good about foreseeing these kinds of events. And they foresaw this one: it was just a tad too late.

"Good job, Charlie, send _her_ , why don't you? Did you forget to check with George before sending a vision again?"

"No, no, it's okay, I can fix it! Look!" Charlie swished his fingers. "See?... Oh… Um. Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?" George came up behind them and looked over their shoulders. "Uh-oh. Oh man, Charlie, Lucy is _not_ going to be happy. You're going to lose us _two_ Champions this time. That, or we'll lose _her_. Too bad… I hate wasted potential." George clapped Charlie on the shoulder consolingly and walked away.

"Good luck, mate." Jerry said, also clapping Charlie on the shoulder. "She's gonna demote you, she will."

"You can't demote a higher power!" Charlie cried in panic.

"She'll find a way. I can't _believe_ you just did that." Jerry thought a moment. "You know, it's a good thing we decided not to hire that Ultimate Evil in the Lesar dimension. Now the scales can stay balanced. That may be the only thing going for you."

Jerry walked away, too, leaving a crestfallen, horrified Charlie to think of something to tell Lucy when she heard about this.

* * *

"Oh, crap!"

 _Of course_ , Cordelia thought, _the Powers couldn't have included_ _this_ _in their vision_.

"That's right," she said loudly and with as much sarcasm as she could muster, " _send_ your loyal Champion into mortal danger without warning! Thanks for the lesson in vigilance, but I think I could have done without it!"

Cordy was well aware that talking to an invisible entity made her look quite insane, but as the only other people in the alley were the three vampires eying her neck hungrily, she really didn't care. It had been a while since she'd faced vampires, but it wasn't the sort of thing you forgot how to do.

She swung the bag that she had brought off her shoulder, tossed it aside, and raised her slightly sweaty fists with a trembling breath. The first vampire lunged at her and she ducked. Fighting vampires was not usually part of the job requirement; thus, when she'd signed on as an eternal employee, the Powers had not seen fit to equip her with any superpowers beyond a few extra senses. Oh, the Powers were going to get an earful next time she had the chance. If she had the chance.

She kicked one vampire into a pile of metal sheets and slammed another into a hard, concrete wall. Cordy swiveled around to face the third, already breathing heavily. _Concentrate_ , she told herself. She grabbed the third vampire as it lunged at her and used its momentum to deflect it into the first one as it was getting up, and they both fell back onto the pile of metal with an explosive _crash_.

Cordy looked wildly around for a piece of wood. The vampire she had thrown into the wall was advancing on her again; one of his fangs was knocked out from the collision. Cordy might have made a quip about dental insurance plans if she hadn't been more concerned about her situation.

She kicked the vampire in the gut with all her might, grateful that she'd at least worn slight heels. It cried out in pain, and Cordy felt a short-lived rush of satisfaction before one of the other vampires grabbed her from behind around her waist and shoulders. Somewhere behind her, Cordy heard footsteps, and she actually prayed to the Powers that it wasn't more vampires-or worse. She elbowed the one that had grabbed her and shoved it away, then spun around.

"Here!" One of two figures racing through the darkness toward her tossed something and she caught it. It was a stake. For the first time in Cordelia's very long life, the PTB had actually answered a prayer. Thanks might even be in order. Later.

Cordy thrust the stake back into the heart of the other vampire behind her. The two figures were fighting the larger of the remaining two vampires, so she focused on the last one. Within seconds, both vampires fell to the ground in cascades of dust.

As the air cleared, Cordelia turned to the other two and squinted in the dusty darkness. They were tall-ish and masculine in that bulky, graceless, yet composed in strength kind of way. They stepped toward her through the settling air and Cordy saw that they were boys. Well, teenagers; they couldn't be much older than 16 or so. One was dark-haired, the other a lighter color, but in the dim light of the alley it was hard to tell much more specifically. The air cleared a bit more and when they stopped in front of her, Cordelia recognized them; she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh thank goodness," she said. "You two are in danger."

"Danger?" they asked in unison, glancing at each other in confusion. Granted, it wasn't a typical salutation, but Cordy always did like the direct route when she could take it.

"Yeah. But don't worry, I handle this kind of thing all the time. I'm a seasoned professional."

"Okay…" the darker-haired one said slowly. He was leaner and slightly taller than the other boy, and had a self-composure that the other one lacked-actually, that most teenage boys lacked. Cordy wondered what his deal was. "So what are we in danger from?"

"A very good question," Cordy replied. "And as soon as I know the answer, I will be sure to tell you."

"You don't know?" the sandy-haired one asked. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought you were a professional?"

"I am." She held out her hand and smiled. "Cordelia Chase. Nice to meet you."

The dark-haired one got over his hesitation first and took her hand. "William Cole."

Cordy nodded to him, the turned to the other, her hand still outstretched. He took it reluctantly and said, "Calder."

"Just Calder?"

"For now.

Cordy shrugged and dropped his hand, "Alright, then." She held the stake in her other hand out to William, who shook his head.

"Keep it," he said. "We've got others."

Cordelia thanked him and slipped the stake in one of the pockets of her pants. These were certainly not the kind of earth clothes she was used to, but then, quite a long time had passed since she was last there. The PTB always provided time-and-culture-appropriate clothes before she left on missions to help ease her way into new societies (when necessary, they'd even give her a temporary new body).

The pants they'd given her today were loose and comfortable. She could not identify the fabric, but it felt _good_. Light and flowy, but having that necessary weight to hang off the curves of her body just right. She would have to get some to bring home before she left. Her sleeveless shirt was form-fitting, though it allowed for movement nicely, and it was simply, yet tastefully decorated. She also noted with satisfaction that it was appropriately low-cut. After one too many shirts that threatened to choke her, she'd filed a complaint with the PTB on her dimension-jump wardrobe (literally _filed_ a complaint; the amount of paperwork they made her go through was ridiculous). It took a while, but she figured that if she was going to be young and beautiful forever, she might as well flaunt it a bit. Of course, V-necks did much more for her than scoop, but she would look this gift horse in the mouth later. If only they had added a necklace…

She glanced up and realized that the boys were watching her with raised eyebrows as she inspected her clothes. She gave a smile and an awkward chuckle. _Way to inspire life-saving confidence, Cordy_.

"So," Calder said, "we're going to need some explanation. We might know about demons, but sometimes people really are just crazy." He flicked a short, stray lock of hair out of his eyes, which was styled in a swooshed back, that's-right-I'm-a-vampire-fighting-badass kind of way, and the lock somehow settled perfectly back into place with the motion. Cordy was definitely going to have to ask what kind of product he used.

"You got it, Champ," Cordelia nodded. "But first, and this is going to sound like a really weird question, but where and _when_ am I?"

The boys stared at her.

"I swear, I'm not crazy. I dimension-hop, if that means anything to you. I'm not local-well, not anymore. Care to clue me in?"

"Ireland," William said. "2214."

 _Ireland_. She thought the accent sounded a bit like Doyle's. And the 23rd century… So only two hundred years had passed since she left. Sometimes, Cordelia thought that keeping track of time was the hardest part of her job. She had long ago decided that if it weren't for the day off and few tokens of appreciation from friends on her birthday, it wouldn't be worth it anymore to measure the years.

"Okay," she said, "that definitely helps. Thanks. So I'll explain, but do you think we could go while we talk?"

"Sure…" William said uncertainly. "Go where?"

"Your place?" Cordelia shrugged, turning to grab her bag. "I'm looking for anything weird or out of place or, you know, anything that might want to kill you." Cordy wasn't usually this blunt with her mission-ees, but given their introduction, she thought they could handle it. She slung her bag over her shoulder as she rejoined the boys.

"That happens a lot," Calder said. "We patrol almost every night. We always find things that want to kill us; it's not hard."

"Yeah, but I have special magic powers that I bet you don't. Whatever it is, it's beyond what you can handle right now, or the PTB wouldn't have sent me." She started walking out of the alley, trusting that they would follow, and they did.

"The PTB?" William asked at the same time as Calder said, "Magic powers?"

"Yes and yes," Cordy answered and took a moment to gawk at the city when they emerged from the alley. Cars glided along the street in front of them in a relaxed creek-like flow. She looked up and her jaw dropped. The walkways connecting the buildings branched over them in a maze of glass and steel, and the underside of the walkways emitted a blue-ish glow to safely light the people below. It was like a strangely ethereal chrome forest. Cordy looked past the walkways to the sky and wondered if interplanetary travel was a reality yet.

"I get visions from the PTB-Powers That Be—you know who they are?" she continued, pointing questioningly to the right, down the street.

William nodded and led them to their right. "We've heard of them," he replied with a surprising note of suspicion in his voice. Cordelia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye: his light green eyes were dark with wariness. This was definitely a topic to return to later.

Cordy drew in a breath."They send me to different dimensions to help people."

Calder swung around behind William and Cordy so that he could walk on Cordy's other side, eying her for the first time with more interest than suspicion. "What kind of visions?"

Cordy gave a half shrug and said, "Lots of different kinds. They're all about people in trouble, though, so I help them."

"Shiny," William said thoughtfully.

"And your last vision was of us?" Calder asked.

"Boy howdy," Cordy replied. The boys looked at her as if she'd just spoken gobbledegook (which, incidentally, she actually could speak). "Yes," she clarified.

"What exactly about us?" Calder pressed.

Cordy half-shrugged again. "Just that you're in danger and I have to stop whatever it is from doing whatever it wants to do to you. I did get a sense, though, that it has to do with vengeance of some sort. You guys didn't seriously piss anything off recently, did you?"

"Probably," Calder said. "We kill a lot of things in this town."

Cordy nodded thoughtfully. Broad initial list of suspects. She'd dealt with worse.

"So tell us about your magic powers," Calder said.

"I'll do better than that: I'll show you," Cordy smiled.

Calder and William grinned back.

William's apartment building wasn't far away and they arrived within a few minutes. Cordelia warned them that her magic powers looked boring to an outsider, and they would just have to believe her when she said they were cool. And they were, actually, pretty cool. They were less magic powers than they were extra senses: mostly super-enhancements of her own natural-born talents of picking out the popular and the losers in a crowd.

No, really. Sensing power and weakness, seeing through masks, picking up on intentions: all crucial in deciding who was an enemy and who was a friend. When Cordelia looked at William's apartment building and the surrounding area, she could tell by the quality of the energy that the dwellings emitted where the fighting neighbors lived and where the couple who took in foster kids lived. The first one looked like a swamp: deep and murky, and her eyes couldn't focus properly on it. The second looked chaotic and sharp on the surface, but smooth and hard as stone underneath. Cordelia pointed to a set of windows on the fourth floor above them.

"That's where you live," she told William. "That window is the one to your room."

"Yeah," William said, impressed.

Cordelia glanced around. Nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary. She checked out the alleys on either side of the building. No magical disturbances, no unusual power in the area camping out and waiting for William's return, no flashing neon sign that said _Bad Guys Here_. When she was sure she hadn't missed something in her overview, she went back to where the boys were standing on the sidewalk and suggested they go to wherever Calder lived and check it out.

"Actually," William said, "we've been talking, and we think we know a better way."

"Yeah," Calder agreed. "See, we know this guy who knows everything that goes on in this town. He's kind of like...king, or something, of the underworld. He'd know if there's some big evil something in town that's new."

"Er…" Cordy said, trying to decide how good of an idea it was to announce her presence as a PTB agent to the city's underworld...king? Laying low was generally a good rule of thumb, especially when she wouldn't be in town more than a day or two. Hopefully. Also: these kids were on good terms with underworld royalty? If that didn't put them on _someone's_ blacklist, she didn't know what would.

"He's on the way to Calder's anyway," William added. He checked the time on a device that looked like a smartphone, only a bit larger and a bit thinner, then pocketed it again.

"And he's probably been to the Dragon's Crown by now, so he would have gotten the latest from Marty."

"He might still be there," Calder pointed out to his friend.

William nodded and shrugged at the same time. "We could call...but his flat's on the way to the Dragon's Crown anyway. Might as well stop in."

The other boy nodded in agreement, and Cordy found herself intrigued in spite of herself. Also, given that the kids knew this guy well enough to guess at his night's schedule, the lead should probably be checked out.

"Alright," she agreed hesitantly, and followed the boys away from William's home.

As they walked, Cordy struck up conversation to gather more information. Every little bit helped. Like the fact that they were, indeed, 16, and had been training to fight vampires and demons for the last three years: not only did they have time to rack up a list of enemies, but they had motivation to start at a young age, which usually meant that there was a need. The scales were perhaps unbalanced in this town, or maybe they had emotional issues that needed catharting-which was a ripe environment for something to happen that would call for revenge. Probably a mixture of both, with William being the oddly stable one ( _Possible Champion material?_ she wondered) who replied that patrolling "has its rewards," when she asked if they enjoyed what they did. Calder, on the other hand, had replied, "Hell, yeah!" and Cordy felt fairly confident in the Catharsis Theory, as well.

She also learned that Calder had dabbled in magic once, "but not anymore," in a voice that suggested that he didn't want to talk about it. She didn't press it, but she did add it to her mental notes that he was the more likely one to get the pair into whatever trouble they were about to get into.

A natural lull fell as they passed a sweet-smelling bakery (it pleasantly surprised Cordelia that there were still independent bakeries in this age), which William broke by asking,

"So how do you get from one dimension to another?"

"I open a portal," Cordy replied.

"Is that another one of your magic powers?" Calder asked.

They suddenly turned and began ascending the front stairs to a tall building; Cordy glanced up and guessed it was at least 50 stories high. She hadn't expected Mr. Underworld-King to live...well...above-world.

"One of them," Cordy replied distractedly as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "So tell me about this King guy. Are we going to have to bow or something?"

The boys laughed as William held the door open for them and Calder led the way over to the lifts.

“No,” William said. “He’s not really King. This part of the city  _ is _ his, but not in an edict-ruling sense. More in a territory, don’t-hunt-here sense, I think.”

"He's just old and intimidating," Calder said, pressing the call button. "So people give him whatever he wants and tell him whatever he wants."

Cordy raised an eyebrow as they stepped into the lift. "But you're not intimidated?"

"Two," William said in a clear, yet lazy tone, and the lift began to move so silently that Cordy would have thought that it hadn't moved at all if not for the slight change in pressure.

"Nah," Calder waved a hand dismissively, answering Cordy's question. "We've known him since we were kids. It's mostly a face. He's the one who taught us to fight."

"And Latin," William added, "and he made us study demonology texts."

Calder grunted, as if he were sour about this part of his upbringing. The lift doors opened. Cordy hadn't even realized they'd stopped. William led the way down the hall that they stepped out into.

"He can be kind of grouchy," William added. "Don't take it personally."

Cordy shrugged. "Lots of old people are. I've dealt with worse than grouchy." She paused, taking in the information about Latin and demonology. "He's not a Watcher, is he? Is he British?"

"Nope," William replied, stopping them in front of number 212-the only wooden door on the entire hall, Cordelia noted-and knocking. "He was born in this city, actually."

"Hm." Cordelia was still having a hard time preparing herself for this person who was threatening old man that turned kids into monster-fighting academics. "So does he have a na-"

The door swung open and Cordy's breath stopped in her throat. William and Calder's underworld-not-king was very old, indeed. One of those should-have-been-dead-centuries-ago types—like her. But he looked just like she remembered.

She found her voice before William could make the introductions.

"Angel?"


	2. Chapter 2

Angel couldn't think. Who could blame him, really? The closest friend he'd ever had, who had died centuries ago, was standing on his doorstep, breathing, warm, _alive_. It was wrong. Out of place. So surprisingly unfamiliar.

She was supposed to be in L.A. with Gunn and Wesley and Fred. She was supposed to be sitting in front of an early, bulky computer, searching for demons on an ancient networking database. _Cosmopolitan_ , out of print since the mid 22nd century, should be within arm's reach, readily available to flip through while the web pages loaded. Cordy, to his knowledge, had never been to Ireland, and, without a doubt, was _not supposed to be in the 23_ _rd_ _century_.

Yet there she stood. She said his name and her voice sounded exactly like he remembered. The smell in the air around her and a few seconds listening to the rhythm of her heart sent his mind whirring past the unfamiliarity and brought the past to the present where, it seemed to Angel, it always had been. Two hundred years was too far away, and so it felt like no time had passed at all.

 _Of course Cordy's here, where else would she be?_ said one part of him. _Dead,_ said the other. It was too much to take in.

Angel was both grateful and not when Cordy hugged him. He didn't have to talk, he could just hug her back. And while it felt _so good_ , there was that unsettling feeling of bringing the past to the present; the line between the two had broken, and it was all the more pronounced now that touch was involved. He tilted his nose closer to her shoulder and took an extra-deep breath. Exactly the same.

"Angel," Cordy said, pulling away, "are you _smelling_ me?" Angel wasn't quite sure how to respond. "It's _me_ ," she said. "I promise."

"But," Angel protested, relieved that his voice was working. Maybe some answers would stop the spinning. "You _died_."

"WHAT?" William and Calder cried together. Angel and Cordelia both started: they had completely forgotten about the boys.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this here," Cordy said. Angel backed away to let her in, keeping his eyes on her as she moved past. Her scent wafted over him again as she did: she had changed her shampoo. Finally, a difference to prove that time had passed. He had forgotten William and Calder already, nearly closing the door on the latter as he shut it.

"So," Cordy said, "you see me, you hear me, you've touched me, and you're probably still smelling me…" ( _Am not_ , thought Angel as he let out a breath.) She shrugged her arms, "What else do you want?"

Angel frowned. "A 'how' would be nice to start. Cordy, we _buried_ you. Normally, I'd be thinking 'vampire,' but that's clearly out."

"Clearly. And yeah, my body died. But I didn't. Surely you, of all people, know that—at least in our social circle—nobody who dies _actually_ dies. You, Buffy, Darla, _Spike_ …what, I can't join your club?" There was a glint of humor in her eye. That kind she used to get when she pointed out the utter ridiculousness of their lives.

"No, that's not what I meant," Angel said, fully aware that she knew that wasn't what he meant, but feeling obligated to say it anyway. "I mean, if you were alive all this time—and I'm still not sure how that's possible when I saw your actual _dead body_ —then…why…?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Cordy finished. "Angel." She gave him that look that meant that he could figure it out if he tried hard enough. "It would have been worse if you had known. I told you, I was going where my body couldn't follow, so it had to die. I couldn't have my Champion jump off his path to find me when I'd just gotten him back on it. You had a job, and so did I. And neither of us could live where the others' path led."

Angel thought about that a moment. "And, your path for the last two hundred years has been…?"

Cordy stared at him a moment. She said quietly, " _Five_ hundred for me, actually. Almost."

Angel staggered backward a few steps, only registering William and Calder's excited whispers like he might register a ticking clock in the room-if he still had a working one.

"Five hundred?" he repeated.

"Yup." She paused. "Guess that makes me older than you, huh?"

Angel just stared at her, trying to wrap his mind around the impossibility.

"It comes with the dimension-hopping territory. Time passes differently everywhere I go..." When Angel still didn't say anything, Cordy elaborated, "To answer your question, my path since we last saw each other is the same as it was in L.A. I'm a Seer for the Powers That Be—minus the unpleasant boulder-crashing-into-my-skull visions-only I'm a Seer for all dimensions."

Finally, a familiar sensation came over Angel, though it wasn't pleasant or comforting like familiar sensations should be. A deep, volatile anger had begun to boil at the mention of the Powers That Be, though he held it down while Cordelia spoke.

"Actually, I mostly work elsewhere; I think the last time I was here was in the mid 2100's, and that was just a quick stop." She paused, and still Angel didn't say anything. She gave that little frustrated sigh that she had always given when Angel wasn't speaking enough for her liking, and continued, "Anyway, the whole aging thing was an issue, so the PTB gave me a body that lasts forever, and I still get to help the hopeless." She paused again and seemed to have decided that the time had come to push the words out of Angel. "So what about you?"

Angel scowled, and Cordy interpreted his expression correctly. "You're not a Champion anymore?"

"Not for the Powers That Be," Angel said. "Honestly, I don't know how you can still work for them. After what they did to us?"

"It wasn't them, Angel. Skip was lying-"

"But _you had the visions_!" Angel interrupted, anger spilling over the edge of the inner container he was trying so very hard to keep it in. "They couldn't have clued us in?"

Cordelia held up her hands. "Angel, let's stop okay? It's over and _long_ past. There are far more important things to talk about right now."

Angel narrowed his eyes. He didn't want her to be right. There were things he wanted to say—centuries-old things. But her expression, the one that told him to stop and think about it, made him actually stop and think about it.

No, she was right. Now was not the time. The spinning needed to stop first.

"Like what?" he asked, careful to leave an edge in his voice so she knew the discussion was only postponed.

" _What are we going to do now?_ seems like a good one to start with."

Angel could only stare at her. How was he supposed to know the answer to that with his mind and emotions in such a state?

"Well," said a voice behind Angel, and he started slightly again, "we have to figure out what's going to kill us, right?" Angel turned to look at Calder. The boys' heartbeats now registered in his senses with Cordy's. Cordy gave a small sigh that he was pretty sure only he could hear, and William glanced nervously at Calder for his interruption.

"Yeah," she agreed distractedly. "Yeah, we do." Cordy looked at Angel. "So: heard about any new big bad in town that might have it in for these guys?"

Angel glanced at the boys, frowning, and shook his head, though he'd barely heard the question. He was silent for a moment. There were so many questions he wanted to ask. But they couldn't talk about much more in front of William and Calder. He'd told them next to nothing about his years in southern California-aside from many of the demons he'd fought that served as good adventure tales-and he could almost feel the bombardment of questions that would be coming the next time they were alone with him.

"Aren't you going to ask me about my vision?" Cordy asked coolly.

Angel looked at her. "What was your vision?" he asked.

"Well, since you asked… I saw them," she nodded her head at William and Calder, "and lots of dark, swirly nothingness. I don't know how nothingness can swirl, but it did. And then...poof."

"Poof?" Angel repeated.

"Gone. Extra-nothingness. Then the vision ended."

Calder cleared his throat. "That sounds...bad."

Cordelia look over at him. "Pretty much," she agreed. She looked back at Angel. "There was a revenge-y sense to it, and the power was big but not giant. Keep an ear out for us?"

Angel nodded mutely.

Cordelia nodded once in return. Silence fell for an unbearable second, and then she suddenly said, "I should go."

"Go?" Angel asked.

"It's been a long, _weird_ day for me. I just came from Paltrax and no one there understands you if you don't speak in iambic pentameter, and then I came straight here and- I just need to sleep or something."

"I understand," Angel said, though he'd only been up a few hours and dreaded the idea of waiting until the next day to actually get to talk to her. A deep part of himself was afraid to let her out of his sight so soon-what if she wasn't real?

"Thanks," she said.

Angel nodded curtly.

Cordy paused in a way that Angel took as reluctance, but then she turned to the boys and asked them to take her to a nearby hotel. They opened the door, also hesitantly, and led the way out. Angel watched as Cordy backed out of the door and said, "It's really good to see you again, Angel."

"You, too, Cordy," his voice replied for him.

Cordy gave a half-smile and turned to follow William and Calder, letting her fingers tow the door behind her. In a second he would hear it click.

"Cordy?"

She pushed the door open again and looked back at him. Angel crossed the room, and before he could stop himself, he pulled Cordy in and kissed her. Though she pulled in a sharp breath of surprise, she kissed him back almost immediately.

Her lips had the same pleasantly sweet tang he'd tasted last time, just like the scent of the Cordy he always knew: from Sunnydale to Wolfram and Hart. Her hand slipped around to the back of his neck, somehow both gentle and firm in a balance only she had ever managed to strike.

Angel's mind let go of all his confusion, the spinning sensation fizzling in the complete return to Them. That was where they had ended. The farewell that should have been forever, now could be momentary, and they could move forward, wherever that was.

The past began to distance itself again, and some things, at least, began to fall into place. Cordy was in the 23rd century. He could deal with that. His mind began to clear (something he had never, in all his 450+ years, known kissing to do), and he gently let her go. Cordy drew in a deep, trembling breath. She took several seconds to compose herself.

"Well," she said, "I knew we'd have to get to that issue at some point," she let the breath out, looking up at him. "But I didn't think it would be so soon."

"Sorry," Angel said, "it just seemed…"

"No," Cordy interrupted, "it's good. It's a little less vertigo-y." She looked up at him. "Is that weird?"

Angel grinned slightly. "I know what you mean."

Cordy nodded with a small smile, as out of things to say as Angel. She settled for an, "I'll see you tomorrow," to which Angel nodded, and her hand lingered an extra second on his neck before she slowly turned and walked away.

Angel closed the door before she had gotten very far, more to avoid William and Calder's shocked stares than anything else.

* * *

William closed the apartment door softly behind him, hardly even aware that he'd made it all the way home. His last memory was leaving Cordelia at the Callaghan—or did he remember parting ways with Calder shortly after that? Vaguely, yes.

"Will? Is that you?"

William jumped back to the present moment.

"Yeah, Mum," he said, and shuffled toward the living room. His mother was sitting in an armchair, the picture of poise and togetherness, as if she expected Family Home photographers to stop by any minute.

"How was your evening?" she asked as he appeared in the doorway. William frowned, not sure how to answer. Judith Cole frowned, too, and William knew he'd have to say something fast to assuage her growing apprehension.

"It was weird," he said finally.

Judith turned off the book she had been reading and set it aside, looking at him with a spark of motherly concern in her eyes. "How so?"

William shrugged. He wasn't really in the talking mood, but he had the feeling that his mother was going to press, and they had agreed before William had started learning how to fight that he was to be upfront about anything that happened while on patrol. It was one of her conditions of letting him learn in the first place.

"It was just…" but he wasn't sure how to put it, so he laid it flat out. "We ran into Angel's old girlfriend who's been supposedly dead for two hundred years."

Judith's jaw dropped slightly.

"Yeah, I know."

"But…how…?"

William shrugged again and plopped down on the couch beside his mother. "Apparently she wasn't actually dead. Well she was, because Angel said they buried her, but she got a new body or something..." And William proceeded to recount the night's events to the rapt attention of his mother.

"Fascinating…" she said when he was done, leaning back into the chair with a thoughtful expression that carried just a hint of envy that she had not been there personally to see it for herself.

"That's not the word I would have picked," William muttered, staring at his hands.

"What word _would_ you pick?"

"Weird!"

Judith chuckled.

"It's not funny! This shouldn't be such a big surprise to me!"

Judith raised her eyebrows. "Shouldn't it? I'm sure it was to Angel and Cordelia."

"No, I mean of course it should be surprising in _that_ way, but… But I didn't even know she existed before this!"

"You didn't?"

"No! Well, I was thinking about it on the way home, and I think I remember hearing her mentioned in a few of Angel's stories that he used to tell us. But clearly she was important to him, so why didn't he ever tell us about her? I mean, I've known Angel for half my life now, and I thought…"

Judith smiled kindly as William trailed off. "You thought you knew him."

William made no indication that she was right, but he knew that it, and the following implication that he was a little hurt, were entirely true.

"Will," Judith leaned forward. "You of all people must know that Angel has never been the most forthcoming person about his personal life. Stories about adventures are one thing, but loves and losses are entirely different. You're like me: we can talk about the things that bother us or things that hurt us. Angel's like Calder: they'd rather keep it to themselves unless they absolutely must say something. Don't take it personally. That's just the way he is."

William sat in silence for a moment, thinking it over. "Cal talks to me sometimes. When he doesn't have to."

Judith gave a small smile. "Well, I didn't say 'never.'"

William nodded.

"Do you want my advice?"

William glanced up.

"Go to sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning."

William nodded again and slowly stood up. He allowed his mother to stand up, too, and kiss his cheek before he meandered down the hall toward his room, not as comforted as he supposed he should have been.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Cordelia began her day early, despite her restless sleep. The mission was important, though she had a difficult time reminding herself that her mission this time was not Angel, no matter how often it usually was.

Her first priority was to protect these kids from whatever the Powers had sent her to protect them from. This was not as difficult or unusual as it might sound. In fact, a quick trip around Calder's building (which she only just remembered to get directions to before they parted ways the night before) with her spider-senses alert revealed several interesting things.

Cordelia still didn't understand why some places attracted certain kinds of energy, but Calder's entire block was one of those areas. It was the kind of place that no one really left without a lot of struggle. More metaphorically than literally, but there was plenty of literal to go around. Cordelia guessed there were at least half a dozen ghosts in the immediate vicinity.

Cordelia cursed to herself. This was going to take a while. Ghosts tended to be much less talkative than...well, just about anything. Cordelia had methods for dealing with that, but it was going to be awkward knocking on people's doors and asking if she could have a quick séance in their living rooms. Yes, this was going to take a while.

 _It's mid-morning_ , she reminded herself. _That's like Angel's midnight_.

Cordelia explored the block again, weaving through the alleys until she found one of the hotspots. It had an old feel to it, like whatever had happened to this ghost happened in a building destroyed before whatever was destroyed before the crumbling alley was newly-paved over it. The thought occurred to Cordelia that it could have been one of Angelus' early victims, and then she suddenly wished she hadn't had that thought.

Sitting down carefully on the grimy ground, she closed her eyes and stretched out her senses, testing for the source of whatever was stuck there, and feeling for any jagged edges of anger, rough edges of grief, or cold edges of fear that might be a motivating factor in whatever event was soon going to happen with Calder and William.

Nothing.

Well, not nothing. More like paths that looked promising on first glance, but quickly curved away into dead ends.

Cordelia tried the process again at the other two hotspots she managed to get close enough to via the fire escape, but by the time she found the last one, she was so focused on not thinking about Angel, she could barely focus on reaching out to the entity on the other side of the wall at all.

Cordelia cursed to herself again and carefully climbed down the ladder, dropping the last several feet to the ground and deciding to go for an early lunch.

She found a cafe that looked promising and sat on the patio in the sun, staring off into nothing until the waiter roused her. The waiter being some kind of automated beverage cart that brought her water, and which prompted her in a welcoming voice to order from the table. She spent a few minutes in confusion over what this meant, but then noticed a small blinking glow emanating from the glass table top near her water. She touched it, and a full menu flashed up in the glass in front of her. She tapped the first thing the advertised itself as a "house favorite" without recognizing what it was, and the menu flashed away again.

 _Angel must hate the future_ , she found herself thinking. And then she let herself keep thinking Angel-centric thoughts through the rest of her meal (it turned out to be a taco salad), hoping they would wear out so she could continue searching for answers that afternoon undistracted.

They did not.

William and Calder were her job, but Angel was her family. Family that she had a confusing relationship with, to say the least, and with whom there was unresolved...stuff.

Cordy hated unresolved stuff. If left alone, it settled in and got harder to dislodge the longer time passed. Maybe that was how certain areas like Calder's block trapped certain kind of energy: no one ever dealt with it.

Therefore, after lunch, Cordelia found herself knocking on Angel's door, hoping he was up by then, but guessing he had barely slept at all, like her. The door opened.

"Hey," she said, and, feeling like it was the thing to do, hugged him again. If she knew nothing else, at least she knew how much she had missed his friendship. That particular thought slid into place and she relaxed for having figure that much out, at least.

"Hey," he replied softly in her ear. He had a soft Irish accent, which she'd noticed the night before, and it was a little soothing-if strange-just to know that he had thoroughly integrated himself back in his homeland.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Alright," he said as she pulled away.

Cordelia smiled understandingly and moved inside so Angel could close the door behind her. "Me, too."

In conscious avoidance of the inevitable conversation and flipping as best she could into casual-relaxed mode, Cordy took in the apartment in all its wooden glory more fully than she had the night before.

"Well, I like what you've done with the place," she said. "But it's a bit morbid, considering your condition, don't you think? What, Pier One was out of matching crosses and holy water fountains?"

"There are lots of forest protection acts in place now," Angel explained, looking around at all his wood furniture, "so there's not much wood around anymore. You can get it, it's just expensive. Most people use a synthetic wood that looks just like the real thing, but I miss the smell."

She smiled. "Always old-fashioned."

"I just like what I'm used to."

Cordy nodded. "I get that…now." Angel looked at her. "I still wear jeans around the house, even though they're not as comfortable as the wrap-pants that have been the style in Cairmir for the past 100 years—they're not big on the fashion scene there."

"Cairmir?"

"The dimension I live in. The Powers set up flats for a few of us dimension-hoppers there. It's nice. Kind of like earth, only the sky is purple. And, like I said, no fashion sense. I've tried to teach the locals a thing or two, but it's a lost cause."

Angel nodded.

Cordy nodded.

The air thickened again in lieu of conversation to cut the tension away. They both tried and failed to find something else to start a conversation with. Not that there wasn't plenty to talk about; just that it all seemed a bit pointless until they cleared the air for good.

Cordy breathed in extra deeply, hoping that the air would help sooth her. The placed smelled like Angel. Her nose may not be as honed as his, but he still smelled familiar and solid. It was _Angel_ , Cordy reminded herself. She could talk to Angel.

"Well…" she said. It was a start. "I guess we should talk…about…" she gestured unnecessarily with her hands.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"About how we kissed, and—"

"I kissed you," Angel corrected. Cordy considered letting that slide, but the truth was, no matter who started it, it was definitely not one-sided.

" _We_ kissed." She couldn't read his expression (which was a little alarming), but he gave one nod of acknowledgement so she could continue. "And…"

She stopped.

"And…" Angel prompted.

Cordy wasn't quite sure what came next. She had expected her momentum to carry her through, but Angel had interrupted that. She tried to find it again. "And that's all fine and dandy… It probably had to be done…" Cordy inwardly grimaced. She was making it sound like a chore. "Because, you know, that's where we left off and all, but it's been 500...or 200...well, _centuries_ since then: I mean, _I_ moved on, and I know you did, too, because neither of us are _that_ pathetic. We built new lives and maybe had significant others, so—"

"—Do you?" Angel asked, suddenly looking up at her.

"Do I what?"

Angel shifted uncomfortably, asking her through body language to understand what he meant. "Have…a significant other?"

"No. But if I did, would it matter? That's what I'm saying Angel, we're not in love anymore, right?"

"…Right." Angel agreed, looking about as certain as she was. It was true, though. She hadn't lived the past 500 years in deep depression over the loss of Angel, or the rest of her family. She'd moved on. It was just that the shock was still throwing her off.

"Right. So that's where we stand."

Angel frowned. "Um. Where is that? ...Exactly?"

Cordy sighed in frustration. "I don't know, Angel okay?"

Angel stepped back in surrender. "Okay," he said. "Sorry. You just said it so confidently, I thought I missed something…"

"I think we're _both_ missing something," she sighed again and rubbed her forehead. Angel shifted his weight.

"Well," Angel started. "Okay, so, we're friends, right?"

Cordelia raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah…"

"Can't we just…work from that?"

"You lost me."

Angel sighed and tried to gesture his meaning. "You and me, we're…friends. So…let's just be friends, like normal, and anything else we can just figure out…you know." Angel shrugged. "…Later."

Cordy put a hand on her hip. "You _know_ that's not going to fix anything."

Angel glanced at her guiltily. "Yeah."

"We're just putting off the inevitable."

"Yeah."

"And this is probably going to create a whole set of problems later that will make us wish that we had dealt with this now like adults."

Angel looked at her with a shadow of a smile. "Most likely."

"Okay, I was just checking." Cordy nodded decisively. "Awkward conversation postponed."

Angel nodded also. "Good."

They shared an embarrassed smile and fell silent. Angel shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again. Cordy's hands grasped at each other, wringing the tension out. They both glanced around the apartment, searching for an object of conversation, which, in their desperation, failed to appear.

Angel finally asked if Cordy wanted something to eat, to which she said she did, even though she had just eaten and even though she really should get back to her job. _You know,_ she told herself, _the reason you're here at all…_ But they moved into the kitchen and she didn't give herself another chance to logic herself away.

The conversation gained momentum and slid into the more natural ease they had been used to 200 years ago. Cordelia commented that with all of Angel's old appliances, it looked like he shopped at the history museum, and Angel explained that the appliances weren't _quite_ as old-fashioned as one might expect after two centuries of technological advancement.

"The technology age really was just an age," Angel said with a hint of gratitude. "Not even technology can change the laws of physics. Now they're focusing on scientific advances; curing diseases and such."

After that, Cordelia had asked about how Angel had gotten to know the boys, and then Angel asked with an undertone of iciness that was not lost on Cordelia how it was still being a Seer for the Powers That Be.

"It's great," she replied, choosing to ignore the iciness for now. "I get to help people who need me, I get to travel around, see lots of different places. And the Powers provide for everything I need; even eternal life."

"How do you like it? Eternal life?"

Cordy nodded, "It's good. I mean, it has its downfalls, but…it lets me do what I love, so who am I to complain?" The conversation then slid into contemplative silence for several moments while Angel served her scrambled eggs. Finally, Cordy asked about the people they'd both known and loved when they lived in southern California.

"You probably don't want to know," Angel said after a moment. "It's a long story, and it doesn't end happily—for anyone."

Cordelia knew that, however much she'd tried to tell herself that it was possible that the rest of them had lived long, happy lives after she'd left. But with their track record?

"Of course I want to know, Angel. I have to know what happened to the rest of my family."

Angel looked up and stared at her a moment. He sighed, then began speaking.

"Things were okay for a few weeks after you left. Then everything went to hell. Actually, hell came to us…"

* * *

"What do you think is going to happen now?"

Calder looked up from the game he was playing on his Palm. William was looking pensive as he leaned back on the two rear legs of Calder's rickety desk chair with his hands clasped behind his head-a position he sat in so often, he never worried if it was going to break under him, as by now he perhaps should have. Calder shrugged as best he could. He was lying on his unmade bed on his stomach, his arms and shoulders holding the weight of his upper body and in hardly the position to properly shrug.

"What do you mean?" A few blasts emitted from the nearly-invisible speakers in his Palm and he quickly went back to his game.

William shrugged and looked down at his hands, which were absently playing with each other. "Angel and Cordelia. I mean, clearly they were in love, and—"

"Get off it. We don't know that for sure."

"Calder," William looked exasperatedly over at his best friend. "I like you a lot, but I'm sorry: if you died and reappeared 200 years later I would _not_ kiss you like that, even if you were a girl. Whether or not they were actually together, they definitely ended on a more-than-friends note."

Calder frowned and swore offhandedly as he lost his game. Tossing the Palm aside, he rolled onto his back, lacing his fingers behind his head and kicking a stray sock onto the floor. "Okay, so you're probably right. But what's the big deal? So Angel gets a girlfriend." Calder let his own words sink in and his face contorted into a grimace of horror. "Oh, that _is_ weird…"

William's look of exasperation deepened. "Not the point, but weren't _you_ the one to ask Angel to teach us how to ask girls out? _And_ for advice on how to be good in bed?"

Calder held up a finger as he responded, "Angel has sex. I acknowledge this. Angel does _not_ have girlfriends."

William rolled his eyes. " _Anyway_. The big deal is that _something_ happened between them, and if that _something_ starts up again now that he knows she's alive...maybe she won't stay with him. Maybe…" William sighed. "Maybe he'll go with her."

"No way. Angel's lived 200 years without her and been just fine. We're his friends and he wouldn't just up and leave us, even though she's the one with the actual job and they apparently have this long history and we're leaving home in a few years, and…he's going to leave with her, isn't he?"

William nodded solemnly. "There's a good chance of it."

"But…" Calder started, but didn't seem to know how to finish.

"It's just a 'what if,'" William tried to comfort them both. "We won't really know until…" William sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "We could ask him."

Calder twisted his head back to look at William and raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Go for it. Let me know how that turns out."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"I guess we'll just wait and see what happens." William conceded.

Calder nodded in agreement and turned over and sprawled, disheartened, across his bed, where he was silent for several minutes. Finally, he asked, "Wanna go see what Pete's up to?"

William nodded. "Sure."

Calder pushed himself up, grabbed his Palm from the bed, and in a silence more quiet than usual, they ambled to Calder's bedroom door. Calder reached for the knob, but suddenly William grabbed Calder's elbow.

"Do you hear something?" he whispered.

Calder frowned in concentration, and heard it: Voices, at least three of them, quiet and rhythmic. And coming from the other side of his door. Heart pounding, Calder nodded to the small wooden chest by the closet that Angel had given him to store weapons in.

William ran lightly to it, flipped it open, and picked out two long daggers. He deftly tossed one to Calder, handle first, like they always practiced for the badass factor. It didn't seem quite so badass now.

When William returned to his side, Calder reached for the door handle. Something was giggling, breaking the rhythm. Holding up his fingers, Calder counted to three, took a deep breath, and yanked open the door. There was a spark, a flash, and something heavy smacked into Calder, who fell into William, and then everything went white.


	4. Chapter 4

Angel and Cordy sat across from each other at Angel's kitchen table in a heavy curtain of silence, like an empty theater after the story had been told, the props put away, the costumes hung back in storage. Neither of them had spoken for several minutes, now that the script was finished.

Cordy finally sat back, her eyes moist. "God…" she said softly, her head reeling. Cordy took a shaky breath and looked up. "Well, what about you?"

Angel shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "What about me?'

"You know what I mean. If you haven't been working for the Powers these past few centuries, what _have_ you been doing?"

Angel's wooden chair creaked under him as he shifted, leaning back as if away from the question itself. "Reading, traveling. You know, the usual when one has an eternity to kill."

Cordelia frowned. "Clearly, 'the usual' for me is helping the hopeless. It was our mission, Angel, and it still is. Have you honestly turned your back against everything we worked so hard for; everything I _died_ for?"

The curtain fell again on a scene that Angel had known was coming but still hadn't properly prepared for. A drop of water _plopped_ into the pan soaking in the sink as Angel tried several times to say something, but each time fell short.

"I couldn't do it again, Cordy," Angel finally said quietly. "After it was over, I couldn't stand the sight of anyone else I knew, or the thought of teaming up with anyone to do good in a world where goodness doesn't last. I wanted no part in it: I quit working for the Powers, I quit working for anyone. For a while, I didn't even bother saving people who fell directly in my path, partially to show the Powers that I wasn't on their side anymore and partly…" he sighed, "…partly because I just didn't care."

He looked up. Her gaze made him feel like a child who had better give the real reason he'd been called into the principal's office _now_ , or he'd be grounded all summer. Angel quickly looked back at his hands as if that would make her expression go away.

"You gave up," Cordelia said through a clenched jaw.

"I didn't give up; I chose the lesser pain."

Cordelia took a deep breath. "And what about now? Two _hundred_ years isn't enough time to get over it? These kids you're friends with are…what? Minions to do your fighting for you so you don't have to feel quite so guilty?"

A flicker of anger flashed in Angel's eyes, but he didn't answer right away. Finally, he straightened up and said, "I'll save people I come across, and do my best to keep the demons here under control. Like I told you, the kids forced their way in. They'd always shown interest in learning to battle the forces of evil, so when they were old enough, yeah, I trained them, knowing they would be a better force for good than I ever could or wanted to be."

"I thought you didn't care if good won anymore?"

"I care if good wins," Angel replied. "I just don't care if I'm involved."

Cordy was silent a moment.

"You're mad at me," Angel observed.

Cordelia did not respond right away. "I'm not mad," she began. "I'm really disappointed, and I don't understand it all… But I now see a little too clearly that there is something else we need to talk about."

Angel asked the question with a look.

Cordy answered, "The fact that the Powers are completely a part of my life…and completely _not_ a part of yours."

"That shouldn't change anything."

"It changes _everything_ , Angel. I'm still alive because of my involvement with the Powers and you're—"

"—probably still alive because I'm _not_ involved with the Powers."

"It's more than that." Cordy sighed and leaned forward, looking into Angel's eyes to make sure he got the message. "It's about our missions. It's about our beliefs. I'm signed on with the Powers for life. I believe in what I do, and I love it. I'm here on a mission from them and I'm going to complete it. I want your help in this Angel. I want to work with you again. But if you help me, you'll be working for them. And that—for whatever reason—might not be something you can do."

Angel looked down at his hands and gathered his thoughts before speaking. "You have no idea how much I hate the Powers That Be. I've been able to move past what happened at Wolfram and Hart: your death, Wesley's, Fred's… But I can never forgive them for what happened with Connor. They had plenty of opportunities to warn us, and they didn't." He met Cordy's eyes. "They have no excuse."

Cordy swallowed. "Are you sure you're just not looking for someone to blame? For a while Wesley was the one on your death list."

"What if I am? Even if they don't hold all the blame, they get a big part of it."

"Does it really help? Having something to blame?"

"Yeah, it does, actually."

"Angel, it's been two hundred years!" Cordelia stood up abruptly and leaned over the table. "You got over the rest of us, why not Connor? Don't get me wrong," she laid her hand over Angel's to calm the fury that was beginning to brew, "I loved Connor, too, and what you went through with him was every parents' worst nightmare combined, but…you've got to let him go."

Angel didn't speak for a minute. His eyes shifted from Cordy's to their hands on the table. Cordy drew her hand away, and Angel swallowed. He looked back up.

"Connor's still alive, Cordy."

Cordy blinked. "What?"

Angel sighed and swallowed. "I think it has something to do with being the son of two immortals. He's pretty old—really old. He's had Alzheimer's for a long time. He, uh…" Angel cleared his throat, "doesn't remember anything…except for a few fragments from the false memories we had to give him, and I think he has nightmares about Quor'toth. I still go see him every day, though."

Cordy fell back into her chair in disbelief. "He's _here_?"

Angel nodded.

"Angel," Cordy leaned forward. "You _have_ to take me to him."

Angel sighed. "Yeah. Okay."

He hesitated before pushing himself up from the table. Looking up, Angel caught Cordelia's eye briefly before turning to get his coat.

* * *

Less than half an hour later, Angel pulled his far-too-expensive car into the shade of St. Anthony's Retirement Community, out of the path of the late afternoon sun.

"You put him in a home?" Cordy asked, stepping out of the car.

"Had to. He needs constant surveillance and the doctors are right there, just in case. If he stayed with me, I would hardly have been able to leave, even to get blood." Angel led the way toward the front doors.

"How long has he been here?"

"Since I moved here, thirty or so years ago." Angel held the door for her to go through first.

"And the doctors aren't a little bit suspicious that he's still around?"

Angel shook his head. "I told them about us. I figured it was easier than moving him around every few years."

The receptionist smiled and nodded at them as they crossed the lobby. "You're early today, Angel," he said. Indicating Cordelia and swiveling the sign-in screen to face himself, he added, "Does Mr. Connor have another visitor today?"

"Yes," Angel replied. "Cordelia Chase."

"Got it," the receptionist replied with a smile as he entered them into their record of visitors. "He's just eaten, so he should be pretty cheerful," he called as they disappeared down one of the corridors. Neither of them spoke until they reached Connor's room, at which they both hesitated, even though it was open.

"Maybe I should go in first," Angel said. "Since he knows me. I'll let him know you're here."

"What's the point? He doesn't know who I am anyway, right?"

"No, it'll just be less of a surprise."

Cordy nodded and let Angel enter the room without her. She could hear him greet Connor in a quiet tone. An old, gravelly voice answered him, and Cordy felt her already-thudding heart jump. _Connor_. She heard two chairs being dragged across a carpet, and then she heard her name. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Rip Van Winkle looked younger than the man with Angel's brow sitting in an armchair in a corner of the small room. Was that _her_ sharp intake of breath? She couldn't feel her body, but it walked her closer to Connor and sat her down the chair next to him.

"Connor," she breathed. "Hi." What else could she say? _Hello, Connor, you don't remember me, but we have a long and awkward history. How have you been? What's your last two hundred years been like?_

"Hello," Connor said in a slow voice full of effort. He turned to Angel. "She's pretty. Where did you meet her?"

"We go way back," Angel replied, sitting down in the chair next to her. "You know her, Connor."

Connor looked at Cordelia through white eyebrows and shook his head. It astounded her how the body could change so entirely while his eyes, which stared into hers as intensely as Angel's often did, stayed exactly the same. If she stared long enough, the edges of her vision might blur enough for her to replace the wrinkles with smooth, youthful skin, and the thin white hair for a long brown mane that always seemed to cover his beautiful eyes.

"No," he said finally, "I think I'd remember her."

Angel smiled weakly. "There are a lot of things you don't remember, Connor."

Connor narrowed his eyes in scrutiny and gave a small grin. "I still think I'd remember her."

"How did _we_ meet, Connor?" Angel asked.

Connor frowned at him. "What's that got to do with anything?"

Cordy finally spoke, "Because I met you about the same time your—um, Angel met you."

"Well I've known him for a long time," Connor said. "Must have been…what?" He glanced at Angel. "Ten, fifteen years?"

Cordy bit her lip. Angel seemed to be much more used to this than her, because he was able to speak right away.

"I've known you since birth, Connor."

"Is that so?"

Angel nodded. Connor scrutinized him, now. "You're not my son, are you? I always thought we had the same brow."

The corners of Angel's mouth twitched. "No, Connor," he said. "I'm not your son."

* * *

Angel and Cordelia were silent as they walked out of St. Anthony's back to Angel's car. At that time of the year, the sun didn't actually set until close to 9pm, and it was only near 7pm now, but the highrise buildings cast long enough shadows during the evening hours that Angel could usually find safe outdoor paths, if he had to. Additionally, St. Anthony's was on the eastern edge of a latitudinally-long city which meant that centuries of buildings blocked his view of the west, and tall trees graced the grounds of the home, so Angel only had to dodge a few tiny lingering patches of sun as they approached his car.

Angel car was black, sleek, and curvy; it had real wheels where most sport and luxury vehicles had hover technology (not the only "upgrade" he'd refused to take), and he'd had to pay extra for the gas hybrid engine, for the sole (and expensive) purpose of having a manual transmission with a real gear shift. Angel had certainly not been planning on telling Cordelia that he'd named it _Chóir_ , an Irish word meaning roughly "My Dear"; but no sooner did she see it sitting in the garage at Angel's building than did she ask what he called it, aside from Ticket to Getting Laid or My Great Phallic Metaphor.

"Do you ever wonder," she finally said as Angel opened the passenger door on the left side of the car for her, "if Connor looks like what you would have looked like as an old man?"

Angel nodded. "Yeah," he replied.

Cordelia gave a half smile and leaned back against the car. "The eyes are different," she said.

"Darla's," Angel nodded. "Or…" but he hesitated.

"Or?" Cordelia prompted.

Angel shifted his weight a bit sheepishly. "My mother's," he said, and Cordy raised her eyebrows slightly. "I can't actually tell where he got them…"

Cordelia gave him a reassuring smile and then slid into the car. Angel closed her door, circled the car, and got into the driver's side. They were quiet again until they had pulled out into the relatively light evening traffic.

"You know, we never really finished our talk," Cordy said suddenly.

Angel's mind had been completely elsewhere. "What?" he said, glancing at her as long as he dared while driving. "Um, Cordy. I thought we were…you know. Not talking about that now."

"Huh? No, Angel, not _that_. I meant the Powers That Be thing."

"Oh," Angel said quietly, and he had the sudden wish to disappear into his seat.

"I get that you don't want to work for the Powers, Angel. Personally, I think you should. You are capable of doing so much good, and I don't think it's worth this vendetta you have against them to not live up to that potential. But I'm not going to push the issue any more than that. I'm only here for a few days, I don't want to spend it arguing, and it's your un-life, so… But whatever you decide, I won't take it personally."

Angel swallowed, not quite sure what to say, so he settled for, "Thanks." Silence fell between them for the next block.

Cordelia leaned her head against the window, watching the sidewalks pass by. After a moment, she said softly, "Are you the reason the Powers had to send me to here in the first place?"

Angel glanced at her briefly in surprise.

"Because there was no one else to help these kids?"

Angel gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. "I would have helped them," Angel said. "Before I knew the Powers were involved."

"Oh, well, thank god you know now," Cordelia said bitingly. "You know, before you _accidentally_ helped the PTB in your efforts to save two kids who _think_ you're their friend."

"I am their friend," Angel sighed, knowing that it was true, but also realizing that this was the first time he'd said it.

Cordy snorted. "I hope to God your definition of friendship went to hell after _we_ were friends, Angel, because if we were all so disposable-"

"Stop," Angel cut in tersely. "You know you weren't. If you were, maybe I'd be willing to do this all again."

"All what? Friendship?"

"Yes."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Drama queen," she muttered. "I know, Angel: love hurts. But there's a reason we fight for it."

"For other people, maybe," Angel agreed. "But for me, Connor's the only one I can afford to fight for."

Cordy sighed again and turned back to the window. "What happened to you?" she said so softly, he knew he didn't have to acknowledge it if he chose.

At the next block, Angel asked, "Can I drop you off somewhere?"

Folding her arms across her chest, Cordelia replied, "Know where I can get an Orb of Omok? I could use some help getting past the first few layers of this dimension."

"I used to have one," Angel replied. "But I think I got rid of it." He suddenly changed lanes to make a right at the upcoming intersection instead of a left. "Ferguson's should have one. Tell him you know me and he might give you a discount."

Cordy raised her eyebrows, impressed despite her mood. "Like a good, longstanding customer-type discount?"

Angel swallowed. "More like a scary-customer-type discount."

"Oh. Right," Cordy nodded. "Gotta embrace that loner vampirehood, huh?"

"It has its perks," Angel agreed shortly. He pulled the car over in front of Ferguson's and stopped.

After a short moment, Cordelia abruptly unfolded her arms and opened the car door. "Well, thanks," she said. "I'll be in touch."

"How long do you think you'll be here?"

Cordy glanced back at him and shrugged. "A day or two, maybe. Don't worry, Cha-" she faltered. "Angel. I won't leave without saying goodbye."

They shared a brief look, and then Angel nodded and looked away. Cordelia got out of the car, and Angel drove away almost as soon as the door closed behind her.

* * *

William and Calder lay painfully on top of each other on something rough and hard, furiously blinking in the darkness that the white light had left them in. Bright orbs rushed by them, roaring like dying machines, the breeze ruffling their hair each time one of them passed.

"What. The _hell_. Happened?" Calder demanded, standing unsteadily as quickly as he could. "Who. The _hell_. Was in my house?!"

William pushed himself up also, a little worse for wear, being the one that Calder had landed on. Massaging his ribs, he looked around frantically. His eyes were slowly growing used to the lack of light and he could vaguely see that the things that sounded like dying machines actually _were_ machines. People passed by William and Calder, staring at them strangely.

"Watch your language, boy," an old man admonished in an American accent as he passed with his white-haired wife, who stared disapprovingly down her nose at Calder. Calder looked like he was about to say something back, but William grabbed his arm.

"Hold off," he advised. "Wait at least until we know where we are until you start cursing at random people, alright?"

Calder glared at William, but kept his mouth shut.

William stared at Calder. Calder stared at William.

"So what do we do, Oh-Most-Level-Headed One?"

"I don't know, I just said we should figure out where we are first! How am I supposed to know how to do that? It's not like we can just ask someone on the street."

"Well at least they speak English," Calder shot back, and he kicked a small empty paper box with what looked like a camel on it into the street to be torn up by the tires of the roaring machines. One of them passed particularly close to the curb and blew something up into William's face.

Sputtering, he ripped the oily, bitter-smelling paper away from his nose. He almost tossed it aside, but the large bold writing caught his eye: " _The Los Angeles Times._ "

William swallowed and looked at the date: September 29, 1952.

"Oh shit," he said.


	5. Chapter 5

Angel kicked at a loose piece of pavement as he exited the street-level door of the garage where he parked his car. Not used to being out at such an early hour as Still Before Sunset, he hadn't looked before kicking the crumbling chunk, and it hit the shoe of a passing pedestrian, who was almost as surprised as Angel was. He muttered an apology as he walked away, wondering even as he set off if he should postpone his walk to the Dragon's Crown until people had gone home-or maybe if it was a sign that he _should_ take the sewers, like he'd debated before deciding he could use a bit of danger while he brooded. It was good for the mind.

He gave a weighted sigh and a cool gust of wind carried an unusual amount of bakery scents past his nose. Judith Cole stepped out of the bakery door several meters in front of him and he paused for a moment.

Judith had always reminded Angel of a modern version of a poster upper-class 1950's housewife in the way that she graciously interacted with the people around her like they were guests in her immaculate home. He appreciated the way she dressed as if she were prepared for even the lowliest beggar to turn out to be be royalty in disguise. She had danced in her youth, and was nearly always poised and graceful, even when leaning against the wooden bench back at the Dragon's Crown and having more than one drink in her. Though he had gotten to know her better over the years and found her in many ways to be the antithesis of 1950's housewife, he still liked that initial impression she gave; it was soothing.

Judith turned, noticed him, and smiled.

"Angel," she said, and approached him, the door falling out of her fingers and once again shutting away the scents of sugar, flour, chocolate, and yeast.

"Judith," Angel replied. He nodded to her bag. "Tomorrow's breakfast?"

"No, actually. I'm playing cards with a few friends tonight." She glanced at her bag, too, with a smile that carried a hint of youth. "We all have our own guilty pleasure that we must indulge in." She looked up again, "Do you know Marietta and Jack Goldberg?"

Angel shook his head. "Should I?"

"They live only two floors above you." Judith chuckled at Angel's surprise. "I'm not the only Cole to have a friend in this building. Shall we?" She motioned to the entrance with a sweep of her hand and Angel nodded numbly, not because he'd meant to go inside, but because she made it seem like such an agreeable prospect.

He almost ran into someone else as he turned and that sealed the postponing-the-walk idea for him. He led the way up the stairs and held the door for her to go in first.

"Thank you," she said, waiting inside for him to draw level with her again. "Let's go up the stairs; I always hate to use the lift if I can help it. So how are you?"

Angel shrugged as they mounted the staircase.

"I suppose that's a silly question, isn't it?" Judith said.

Angel glanced at her. "William told you?"

"He did."

Angel was silent another moment as they climbed the stairs, wondering exactly how much William had told her. Then he quickly realized that, given the nature of Judith and William's relationship, he'd probably told her everything.

"Cordy's not my girlfriend," he said.

"Did I say she was?"

"No," he replied as they rounded the landing, "but that's probably what William told you."

"Well," she said, "from what I hear, all indications point that way." She gave him a sideways smile. "But I know teenage boys well enough to take any conclusion they jump to with a grain of salt." She paused and shifted the pastry bag to her other hand. "Whatever she is to you, I'm sure it must be both wonderful and difficult to see her again. I can only imagine what it would be like if my best friend knocked on my door one night without warning. Next week is the 19th anniversary of her death, you know…"

Angel had only heard a mention of this friend, so he didn't know that the anniversary was so near.

"I wouldn't know what to do," Judith continued. "A lot has changed in 19 years, but I suppose a lot more has changed in 200. Do you know if Cordelia is going to be here long?"

Angel shook his head. "Only a day or so. When her mission here is complete. Then she'll go back."

They stopped at the floor where Angel's flat was, and Judith turned to face him.

"Forever?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

Angel shrugged. "I don't know. Until the Powers give her another mission here, I guess."

Judith bit her lip, thinking. "Then why on earth aren't you spending every waking minute with her?"

Angel didn't answer right away, surprised into silence.

"If it were me," Judith said. "If it were Evie…I'd want to spend as much time together as possible, if I knew it was limited time."

"It's not that simple," Angel said. "There's a lot of…" He paused, and the front door downstairs opened and closed, locking in the echoing sounds of several female voices and shoes tapping across the marble to the lift. Angel swallowed. "Your friends are here."

Judith tapped the bracelet on her left wrist twice so that the time flashed in a holographic projection on her palm. "We still have a few minutes, not including the amount of time I can take to be fashionably late. What were you going to say?"

Angel shook his head, "It would take too long."

"So be concise," she said. Then, with a twinkle in her eye, added, "I know you know how."

Angel looked at her, somewhat surprised by the, albeit deserved, jibe. He was about to refuse again, but she cut him off.

"Angel, who else would you say it to, if not me?"

Angel thought for a minute. "No one."

"Would that be better?"

Angel shot her a not-too-unfriendly glare, knowing that she had him cornered between the answer he wanted to give (Yes) and the other, which Cordy had long ago shown him to actually be true. The chatting women's voices rose past them through the wall and stopped two floors above.

"How good are you at solving moral dilemmas?" Angel asked finally.

Judith smiled. "Much better than I used to be."

Angel swallowed. "Okay… If your friend did come back for a few days, but the only way you could be with her meant working for someone who did something unforgivable to you…would you still do it?"

Judith contemplated the question before responding. "I suppose all circumstances are different," she finally replied. "But without any other qualifications, then I think yes, I would."

"Even if…" Angel hesitated, hoping she would take the pause for his searching for an appropriate metaphor, rather than fear that she would realize that it wasn't really a metaphor at all. He hadn't told her-or the boys-about Connor. Eight years into the relationship was a bit late to bring up something so important, but he hadn't been willing to talk about it with the boys when they were little, and he and Judith had only recently reached the point of being anything resembling 'friends.'

He took a breath. "Even if they did something to your son?"

"Like what?"

Angel shrugged. "You name it. The worst thing you can imagine. If they did that to him, would you still help them, if you could be with…Evie…just a few days?"

Judith breathed in a slightly trembling breath. "Honestly, I'm not sure. Parental relationships are quite different from friendships. If it was very long ago, which I'm assuming in the 'hypothetical' situation it is, what I would _like_ to say is still yes, because I believe that love should triumph over hate in every case." She paused. "What did the Powers That Be do to you?"

"Nothing directly," Angel replied after a moment. That wasn't entirely true, but it was the easiest thing to say at the moment. "It's more like what they didn't do to stop it, when they so easily could have. And what they did to the people I loved."

"Then I think I would still say yes." She watched him while he considered what to say next. "Is that all?" she asked, clearly knowing that it wasn't all.

"No."

The door downstairs admitted two more female voices, which echoed up the open stairwell.

"They can wait," Judith said.

Angel shifted his weight and sighed. "Not long after Cordy, and all the other people we knew and loved back then, died, in some of the most horrible ways you can imagine, I vowed never to work for the Powers again."

He hesitated and shifted his gaze to the floor, not wanting to see her reaction to what he was about to say. "I let a lot of innocent people die just to prove that I meant it." He tried not to listen to the change in her breathing. "So do I let their deaths be in vain?"

Judith took a breath. "How many?"

Angel's stomach clenched around the stones of poisonous lead and guilt that had been gathering weight all afternoon. "Eleven," he said. And then he added, "Two of them were children. They stopped trying after the 3-year old."

Judith breathed in a trembling breath to calm herself. Angel could feel the heat of her anger across the several feet that distanced them.

"Was it worth it?" she asked stonily.

Damn if she hadn't cornered him again. Neither answer would suffice, and they both knew it.

He glanced up carefully. "Would you still spend every waking minute with Evie?" he asked instead.

So absorbed were they that neither of them noticed the growing volume of the two women's voices from downstairs until they rounded the stairs below them at that moment.

"Judy!" one of them cried. Judith and Angel started and glanced down at the approaching women. They were both in athletic attire that bore the name of a nearby yoga center, their hair slightly mussed from the class they must have just come from. The brunette glanced at the bag in Judith's hand. "See, Claire? I _told_ you it was Judy's turn to pick up the pastries."

"Fine," the red-headed one said, rolling her eyes slightly. They stopped on the landing next to Angel and Judith. "So, Judy, who's this?" The one apparently called Claire nodded her head curiously, and a little teasingly, at Angel. He thought she must be one of the most unperceptive humans he'd ever met if she couldn't sense the anything but romantic, or even friendly, vibe between them at that moment.

"This is Angel," Judith said. "He's a friend of the family."

"Well don't chat too long," the first one said, "or we'll start the first round without you."

"I'm coming," Judith replied. "Angel," she addressed him, her tone indicating that he should look at her, which he did. "If you answer my question, I'll answer yours. We'll be done in a few hours; I'll be back then."

"We don't end until midnight sometimes, though, Judy," the dark-haired woman said quietly.

"He'll be up," she replied, and then she turned to climb the stairs, her bemused friends following in her wake.

* * *

"So the good thing is, we know where we are," William said, hardly bothering to be cheerful at the half-full glass.

"Is there anything else that's good?" Calder asked morosely.

William thought for a moment. "We're not dead? And we only lost one of our daggers instead of both?"

Calder sighed and leaned back against the rough, dirty brick of the closed-down shop they were sitting in front of. "We _will_ be dead soon if we keep sitting here breathing in this poison. Don't they know that gasoline kills you? I mean, it's fun in Angel's car, but they _all_ have it."

"Of course they don't know," William replied. "Besides, what else have they got? Cars and gasoline are still a new invention here."

Calder grunted, but didn't say anything else. They fell back into watching the crowds pass: the skirted women with neatly curled hair, the men in suits, the laughing teenagers…and more cars than William and Calder had even seen in their entire life. Blindingly bright signs flashed at them around the streets. William stared at one in particular across the street advertising fresh produce. How did they make it that solidly, almost illegally bright?

William almost didn't see him. With a start, he nudged Calder in the chest a little harder than he meant to and jumped up, "Calder, look! It's Angel!"

"What, where?!" Calder jumped up, too, standing on his toes to see the view from William's taller perspective.

"On the other side of the road. He just passed that produce sign, there. Come on!" And he hurried off, Calder close behind, still trying to see Angel through the people and cars without losing William. "He's crossing the street up there, do you see?" William asked excitedly. "Hurry!" They jogged so that they could cross with the crowd before the light turned.

"We need to get to the other side," William muttered as they paralleled Angel's progress down the monstrous street. Up ahead, Angel was finally forced to stop at a light. William jogged faster until they were directly opposite him.

"I still don't see him," Calder said, breathing a little harder than normal.

"There, at the back of the crowd," William pointed out.

"Wh—oh." Calder finally said. "What did he do to his hair?"

"I guess you have to go with the style of the times… No!" The light had turned, and Angel started forward with the rest of the crowd.

"Angel!" William called before he could stop himself. Angel's eyes flashed at them and both William and Calder started. That wasn't Angel. Well, it _was_ Angel, but it wasn't _Angel_. Angel broke the cold, calculating gaze and disappeared into the crowd.

Calder swore quietly under his breath. "Where'd he go?"

William narrowed his eyes. "There," he said, pointing to a lone, dark figure that had broken away from the stream of people and turned into the green and leafy entrance of a building with the sign advertising in the same bright letters as seemingly every other business, _Hyperion Hotel_.

"Oh yeah…" William said slowly.

"What?"

"Angel lives there," William said, pointing to the hotel.

"Kinda figured that," Calder replied. "The light's green!"

"Don't you remember?" William said loudly over the noise of the crowd and cars as they hurried across the street with the swarm of other people. "The stories he used to tell us about the monsters he's fought: There was one living in his hotel, here, in the 1950's!"

Calder frowned in concentration as they stopped to wait at the next crosswalk. "Oh yeah," he said vaguely. "Which story was that? Did it involve yellow slime and a sword and lots of tentacles?"

"No, it's the one with the Paranoia Demon that he killed with the bolt of electricity. But I think it had tentacles, too," William replied. He grinned slightly. Angel hadn't told that story in a long time, but it used to be one of William's favorites. He had always imagined the hotel like a castle that Angel had been made king of after he saved all the people living in it.

"Do you think he killed it already?" Calder asked.

William shrugged. "Doesn't make much of a difference, does it? If he has, it's gone, if he hasn't, it will be soon."

They reached the entrance to the hotel and paused.

"Will?" Calder asked. "How are we supposed to find him in there? Do we even know what floor he's on?"

"Nope."

Calder thought for a moment. "Okay, then. Just checking."

And they strode toward the doors as purposefully as they could, stepping briefly to the side to let an angry looking dark-skinned father usher his well-dressed family quickly out of the hotel. People bustled everywhere across the green marble and red carpet floors, and the smell of the air switched from exhaust to cigarette smoke. Several people hovered around half-filled ashtrays sprinkled across the lobby, reading newspapers or watching something on a tiny black and white screen.

"Seriously, do they have no will to live?" Calder whispered as someone breezed by them, smoke streaming out of his mouth.

"You're one to talk," William said, reminding Calder of his brief smoking habit.

"That was just to be one of the gang," Calder replied. "I never really liked it...Much."

"My mum said they added a whole bunch of extra stuff to the tobacco back then…back now…whatever. To make it even more addicting."

Calder grimaced. "Come on," he said again, and they descended the stairs as nonchalantly as they could toward the reception desk.

A man with a hideously green, short tie (it always baffled William how men never choked on ties) stood near the back wall, lecturing an employee for delivering a meal to the wrong room, and in his stead as receptionist, a gum-chewing bellman with a name tag that read "Frank" waited with a deadly-bored expression on his young face.

"Yeah?" he asked, smacking his gum, when they approached.

"We're looking for someone we think is staying here," Calder said.

"We're not supposed to give out room numbers," Frank replied dully. "It's a…whatchacallit. Privacy thing."

"Oh, well…" Calder started, but faltered.

"He won't mind, we know him," William said.

"Yeah, uh, what part of 'no can do' don't you two kids understand?" Frank said, "I don't care if he's your _father_. You don't have permission, you don't have the number."

William sighed in frustration. "Can you give him a message for us, then?"

"Yeah, okay," Frank said, and pulled out a small pad of Hyperion-embossed paper and a pen. William's stomach clenched slightly and he prayed that it was normal to print instead of use cursive. Clutching the pen in his hand, which had been trained in handwriting but was no means a fine example of it, he spelled out Angel's name as cursive-like as he could at the top of the paper. He had barely started the next word when Frank made a startled coughing noise and William glanced up into the bellman's suddenly pale face.

Frank had to swallow his gum to get it out of his throat. "You're leaving the message for _him_?"

"Yes," William said.

"You, uh, know him personally, you say?"

"Yes," William repeated.

Frank cleared his throat. "Tell you what, I'll just, uh, _happen_ to write down his room number and leave it where you guys _happen_ to see it, and uh, we'll all be happy."

"Okay…" William replied, sharing a confused glance with Calder as Frank yanked the pen out of his hand, scribbled the number 217 on the paper and turned it around for them to see, glancing around anxiously.

"Okay, that's that, you boys have a nice night," and Frank crumpled the paper up and threw it away. "I'll take care of that for you, folks!" He hurried over to a couple who had just arrived, tossed their bags on a cart, and wheeled it away almost before he got the chance to catch the newcomer's room number.

"Strange…" Calder muttered as they made their way to the stairs.

William nodded in agreement, watching as the lift doors closed on Frank's antsy figure.

When they reached the second floor, they turned down the hallway and began searching for 217. The chatter from downstairs died away almost the instant they turned the corner, and the corridors harbored a quiet that was almost creepy in its absoluteness. The hairs on the back of William's neck prickled.

They passed room 208 when a loud _bang_ and a shout of pain made them both jump.

"This way," Calder said, though William was already sprinting alongside him toward the noise. They rounded the corner and stopped dead. Angel was half-dragging a man in a tan suit and hat down the hall by the wrist and ear. The lift door at the other end of the hall opened to a surprised Frank, and Angel ruthlessly shoved the man into Frank's cart with a crash that almost sounded as though some bones had snapped.

"He's going down," Angel said, and when he turned, William drew in a short gasp. Suddenly, he understood why Frank was so furiously pounding the down button on the lift. Angel's eyes were colder and more hateful than any vampire William had ever come across. Most of the vampires William faced were simple, pure evil-this was so much worse.

"Gosh. I mean that was—Gosh …" A woman in a floral dress that William had only just noticed stood nervously outside an open door, her curls bouncing with each fervent motion. "Listen," she said, "I know we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Judy, and—" But her gratitude was cut off by the slam of the door to what William now realized was 217. He glanced sideways at Calder with raised eyebrows.

"…and I'm staying in room 213…if you ever wanted to stop by, have a smoke…" the woman finished quietly. She turned and jumped at the sight of William and Calder. "Oh!" she cried. "I'm sorry, I didn't— This wasn't what…" And instead of finishing, she hurried off to her room, fumbling with the key in her pocket as she passed them. When she had shut and locked the door behind her, William turned to Calder.

"Okay," Calder said. "I can see why he didn't want to deliver the message himself…"

William nodded in agreement. "Maybe we shouldn't bother him right now. I mean, he doesn't actually know us _yet_."

"Maybe," Calder conceded. Then he added hesitantly, "Angel was _good_ in the 1950's, wasn't he?"

"Of course," William replied. "He defeated the Paranoia Demon, remember?"

"Then let's just ask him," Calder said, with some amount of resolve. "It shouldn't take too long, right?"

"Right," William agreed. "And it _is_ Angel…"

"Right." Calder led the way to Angel's door and hesitated. "You knock," he said.

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you've known him the longest."

"Hardly."

"Just do it."

"Scared?"

"Not as much as you, apparently."

"Just knock—"

Suddenly, the door flew open almost of its own accord, and both boys jumped. Angel glared at them in irritation.

"Do you mind arguing in front of someone else's room?" he said coldly. His accent was American. It sounded strange on him.

William swallowed. "Angel, we need to talk to you."

"Look, I don't know how you know my name, but stay away from me."

"We're from the future," Calder pressed, "and we need your help getting back there."

"Not interested," Angel replied.

"All we need is your help with a spell or something," Calder said.

"Do it yourself."

"But what if we don't speak the language it's in?"

"Not my problem," Angel said. "Look, I really don't care what your issue is. I don't have a sign on my door that says I help people, so I don't know why everyone's coming to me tonight wanting protection or spells to get back to the future, if that's even possible. I just want to be left alone." He started to close the door, but William stuck his foot in the way.

"Have you killed that paranoia demon yet?" he asked quietly.

Angel frowned. "The what? Why would I do a thing like that?"

"Because the Angel we know helps people," William said resolutely.

Angel scrutinized him. "Do you even know what I am?"

"You're a vampire with a soul."

The briefest flash of surprise flickered across Angel's face, but it disappeared almost instantly. "Then you should know that vampires don't mix well with humans. The soul doesn't take away the hunger for human blood. I've got a bottle of it chilling right there," Angel moved enough so they could see the cylinder bucket on the desk, "but it's not hot or fresh like it would be from your throats. Now," he leaned slightly forward and lowered his voice a notch. "If you don't move your foot, I'll crush it."

William swallowed and gingerly removed his foot from Angel's door. Seconds later, it closed with a soft snap.

* * *

At the end of round three, Judith couldn't take it anymore. She excused herself to use the restroom with the same smile she had used all evening, quietly locked the door, pulled the fluffy yellow hand towel off the rack, and buried her face in it, sinking to the floor as she wept.

She could hardly feel the warmth from the heated tile. The room, which she normally appreciated in its warm and tasteful decoration, felt as cold and empty and lonely as a morgue. _The_ morgue, actually, where her memories had been for the past hour. Her heart was at once cold and hot with anger, hard and soft for Angel's situation, and grieving tears she thought were long spent. She thought bitterly of how much she envied him, having the choice that she never would, yet grateful at the same time for not having to make it. Evie's death hadn't been of magic, it had been of stupidity-Judith's own stupidity-and there wasn't ever any coming back from that.

She let the worst of the emotions spill out into the towel before deciding that almost too much time had passed. She stood, replaced the towel, spruced up her make-up, and flushed the toilet, just in case anyone noticed. As the water swirled away, she pretended that her emotions went with it, and added a small smile as the finishing touch to her usual ensemble, left to join the start of Round Four.

They ended mercifully early that night, because of Marietta's appointment with a client the next morning. Judith appreciated the distraction her friends offered, and the consolation they gave when she attributed her less-than-usual cheer to the upcoming anniversary of Evie's death, but the social exhaustion took hold early, and she sighed in relief when she finally descended the quiet stairs alone.

When Angel opened the door, she found an unexpected comfort in the sullen atmosphere in his flat, where she wouldn't have to mask herself so much. Judith stepped in past him without saying anything, and heard the door click behind her. Wrapping her arms gently around herself, she turned to face him.

"Do you have an answer for me?" she asked, stemming any greetings that would normally be obligatory but right now seemed wholly irrelevant.

"Was letting people die worth the Powers giving up on me?" Angel said. He seemed to be trying to force himself to look at her, and didn't answer until he could. "Of course it wasn't worth it… But I also wouldn't have done it differently."

Judith's eyes narrowed. "If you had known that you would be facing this choice, that in the end their deaths might not have meant anything, would you still have done it?"

Angel swallowed and thought about his answer. "Almost everyone I _ever_ thought of as family died within months of each other. It wasn't directly the Powers' responsibility, but they could have warned us, guided us through it. At that point in my life, it wasn't just that I wanted the Powers to lose one of their most valuable Champions—I wanted to stop caring so much about creatures that will someday die anyway."

Judith let the air fall silent before she asked again, almost in a whisper. "Was it worth it?"

"At the time," Angel swallowed. "Yes."

Judith nodded, satisfied not in the answer itself, but in his honesty. "And my answer is no. It's not alright to let their deaths be in vain. You should be willing to die for your own convictions, not make someone else die for you."

Judith pulled her crossed arms in tighter against herself and pushed past Angel for the door, needing to make her escape route quick and easy. She pulled the door open and stopped.

"But that wasn't your question," she said, turning her body halfway to face him, "Your question was, 'If it were Evie…' If it were Evie, would I ignore the deaths of eleven people, who unwillingly and unknowingly gave up their lives for a vendetta, in favor of my own happiness?" She took a deep, trembling breath and looked at him.

"Yes. And God help me, I would love every minute of it." Judith shut the door gently behind her in as dignified a way as her trembling hands would allow.


	6. Chapter 6

Angel couldn't even pretend to sleep that night. He sat in the dark sanctuary of his wooden apartment that seemed to soak up all excess noise and leave the space vibrating in silence. Somehow, the absence of other sounds made room for the clamoring thoughts in his head, allowed them to leak out where he could better see and make sense of them.

It had only just struck him that he had nothing of William or Calder's in his flat. A lingering scent perhaps, and some food in the kitchen, but it would be so easy to pretend that they never existed, and so impossible for any outsider to know about the two kids whose company he had unintentionally grown to appreciate over the past several years. Had he really thought that that would keep them safely enough at bay? Hadn't he already doomed them by letting them learn to fight? A part of him thought that they still had hope, and it was a part he wasn't quite ready to let go of. If there was any way out of the spiraling path they were on, he wanted to make sure they took it.

In the deepness of the silence, the electronic beep of the phone startled Angel like a light bulb to bare, night-adjusted eyes. Cursing silently under his breath and taking a few seconds to let his body dilute the adrenaline, he lifted his left hand and tapped the broad gold ring on his middle finger twice. The holographic image of his Palm screen projected onto his actual palm, the intensity of the light automatically reduced in the darkness of the room (although the tiny light on his ring shone brightly to iluminate his face, since apparently this was a video call and not just an audio call).

"Angel," Judith said in a harried voice, her throat husky and eyes wide and bloodshot with exhaustion. Their conversation only a few hours ago seemed forgotten in her hurry to speak to him. "Angel, William is missing."

Angel frowned. "What?"

"He's  _missing_. Calder, too. I've talked to his parents and their friends' parents. No one has seen them."

"Are you sure they're not out patrolling?"

"If they did go,  _without telling me_ , they should have been back hours ago. Will has a doctor's appointment first thing in the morning; he promised he would be home early tonight. You know he's a good kid, Angel. If his plans changed, he would have told me."

Angel glanced at the clock. 2:45am. Time had passed faster than he thought, and now he had to make a quick decision on a matter that should not be decided quickly at all. Angel tapped his fingers on this chest, watching Judith's anxious, expectant face projected on his hand.

"Where were they last?" Angel asked.

"Calder's home, as far as I know."

Preliminary inspection would be alright, he decided. Just so long as he tread carefully and caught himself if he slipped down that slope. "I'll go and check it out," Angel said. "See if I can track them."

"I'll meet you there," Judith replied.

* * *

"So…" Calder said as he and William slowly made their way back down the stairs to the bustling Hyperion lobby. Frank was back behind the counter, staring so hard at his magazine that it looked more like he was trying to disappear into it than actually read it, and jumping at the slightest noises near him. "What now?"

William shrugged. "I guess we need a place to stay," he said. "It being night and all."

"Any ideas?"

"Short of sleeping outside because we have no money, you mean?"

"Yeah. We'd never get any sleep by the road—I can hear the traffic all the way in  _here_!"

William sighed. "I don't know, Cal… I'm tired and I have no idea what's going on, or why we're here. Who were those people in your flat, and why would they send us back to 1952 Los Angeles?"

He sat down heavily at the foot of the stairs. On the other side of the railing a fuzzy voice emitted from the speaker of the television, asking a captured man if he was now or had ever been a member of the Communist party. One of the people standing around the set commented in a husky voice that the person most certainly  _was_  a Communist, because he just had "that look." Calder sat down beside William and rested his forehead against his hands.

Calder added, "And what's gotten Angel in such a bad mood? You don't suppose the Paranoia Demon is affecting him, do you?"

William nodded. "Yeah, I bet it is." He sighed. At least, he  _hoped_  it was.

"Hey, hey, hey," a nasal voice said, and they looked up. Frank was hurrying over to them, a new piece of gum soft in his mouth. "No loitering! You delivered your message, yeah? Come on," he nodded toward the door. "Time to…whatchacallit. Skidaddle. Run along home."

Without any other apparent options, William and Calder pushed themselves up and allowed Frank to shoo them toward the door. They passed another crowd of incoming guests on their way out, which diverted Frank's attention, so no sooner were William and Calder outside than they sat back down on the steps leading up to the entrance, though as off to the side as they could manage.

"Well?" Calder said after several minutes.

William shrugged. After several more minutes, he said, "You don't think they'd give us a room if we told them we know Angel, do you?"

Calder glanced sideways at William. "Why would they?"

William shrugged again. "Angel intimidates that one guy…"

"Well, the guy sure doesn't have any spine, but if I were him, I wouldn't do it without proof from Angel himself. And I don't think he's in the mood to come downstairs…"

They fell into silence again, leaning away from the door automatically as people came and went. Calder took to watching the flow at first in an unconscious way, and then with a bit more interest.

"A lot of people go in and out of this place," Calder said softly.

"Yeah?"

Calder shrugged. "They can't be watching the door the whole time, that's all."

"You think we should go back in? And do what? Loiter until we're noticed again?"

"Or hide…" Calder glanced at William. "We could steal a key."

William stared at Calder in part incredulity and part consideration. "That's...mad. And brilliant. And  _wrong_. My mother-"

"-isn't here," Calder interrupted. "And even if she was, she wouldn't have any better ideas, either. Way I see it, it's this or make friends at the nearest hobo camp."

William glared at Calder, though not entirely unfriendly. "Alright, I'll hear out your plan. How do we steal a key?"

Calder turned back toward the door in thought, though he couldn't see through the frosted glass. After a moment, he shrugged. "Wait until no one's behind the front desk and grab one?"

William rolled his eyes. "Right. Because it's common practice to leave the front desk unmanned."

"A diversion," Calder whirled around to face William. "There are always diversions in the holos."

"This is real life," William reminded him.

"Doesn't mean diversions don't work. Here, can we still send messages between Palms?" Calder tapped his Palm Ring twice and the projection flashed to life in his hand.

"We should," William said, watching while Calder composed a test message. "They're connected to each other, not a satellite…" Not two seconds later, William's Palm Bracelet buzzed with Calder's message. He tapped the bracelet twice and the words,  _god i hope this works_  appeared over his skin.

"Perfect," Calder said. "Okay, here's what we'll do…"

* * *

Fifteen minutes after Judith had called, Angel stood with her in the doorway to Calder's room, having been let in by a robe-clad, sleepy-eyed, yet slightly frantic Mrs. Lauchley.

"I just don't know where he might have run off to," she was saying. "He's usually a good boy. Quiet. Nice. Not a lot of trouble from him. Oh, when his father gets home..."

Angel raised an eyebrow in her direction, but he didn't say anything.

"Did you call the Gilberts?" Mrs. Lauchley asked Judith suddenly.

Judith face both lightened and fell at the realization. "No," she breathed. "I forgot. Would you…?"

Mrs. Lauchley nodded and hurried off.

"So?" Judith asked as soon as it was safe, and followed Angel into the room.

"They were definitely here," Angel replied, "but no less than ten hours ago."

"Ten hours…?" Judith repeated faintly.

Angel walked around the room, glancing at the askew desk chair and the unmade bed-not unusual considering it was Calder's room, but Angel was interested in the faint scents hovering around the objects. He suddenly glanced at the doorway. "There were others, though." He heard Judith's heart skip a beat.

"Others?"

He nodded. "Three of them. Their scent is strongest by the door, but they came in here. Not for long, though."

"The boys have several mutual friends they're often with," Judith offered. "Perhaps they went out together."

Angel frowned and shook his head. "I don't think so. The boys' scent is too weak in the rest of the flat. And I didn't sense the other people outside at all. I..." He hesitated, not wanting to alarm Judith much more than she already was. But then Angel reminded himself that her son was missing-she could hardly be much more alarmed. And if... _when_...it had been him, he would have wanted to know everything.

"Judith..." Angel looked at her. "They weren't human."

Angel could almost see the cold barbed wire of fear coil up from her gut around her heart; he could almost hear the heart piercing itself against the sharp barbs with every beat. He swallowed, surprised at how clearly he could remember the feeling.

"What are you saying?" Judith demanded.

Angel didn't answer. He just looked at her another moment, and when he finally glanced away, he noticed a glint under Calder's dresser. Angel strode over and bent to have a closer look. It was one of Calder's daggers. Angel turned and narrowed his eyes in the corner of the room where Calder kept his weapons chest. The lid was open. Angel stood and made his way over to it, Judith close behind, and knelt down, taking quick stock of its contents.

"Anything missing?" Judith asked anxiously.

"They took two daggers," Angel replied, holding up the one in his hand. "They knew someone was here."

The air around Judith contracted so strongly that Angel practically felt the pull of it toward her. He wanted both to reach out and comfort her, and draw away lest by his own memories he be pulled in, too. He settled for doing neither.

Judith seemed to be about to say something, but at that moment, Mrs. Lauchley returned. "The Gilberts haven't seen them since Sunday," she said, in her own fear hardly noticing Angel swiftly return the dagger and close the weapon chest as he stood up.

"I have a contact who might know something, Mrs. Lauchley," Angel said. "I'll see if she can help."

Mrs. Lauchley nodded as Angel swept out of the room, closely followed by Judith. "Just so long as you don't charge extra, the more people you bring in," she said. Judith had introduced Angel as a private investigator who happened to be a friend of the family, at which point it struck Angel as how odd it was for this to be his first meeting with Calder's mother, after eight years of knowing him.

Angel hesitated at the door and turned, trying to mask his incredulity. "He's your  _son_ , Mrs. Lauchley."

"Yes, I know that," she said. "That's why you better find him!"

Angel stared at her a second, then shook his head. "I don't charge, anyway," he muttered, and they left.

They were silent until they reached the bottom of the stairs outside, where Angel stopped.

"Cordelia is staying at the Hotel Callaghan, room 328," he said. "She won't mind if you wake her up now."

"Excuse me?" Judith said, frowning at Angel and circling to face him. "You're not coming?"

Angel's eyes fell to the ground as he shifted his weight. "This is what Cordy's here to do," he said. "And you know why I can't be a part of that." He glanced up. "You're in good hands with Cordy; she'll know how to find them."

Judith's mouth opened and closed several times around silent words of confusion. Angel turned abruptly and headed off down the street, tapping a button on the cab column by the curb to call a taxi for Judith on his way. A small part of him hoped that the darkness of the night would seep into him and alleviate some of the guilt that was festering. Darkness was good at getting rid of guilt.

A moment later, Judith seemed to have found her words and she called after him, hurrying to catch up. He could so easily slip away from her, if he really wanted to…

She caught hold of his arm in firm grip and pulled him around. "That's it? You're just leaving?"

"What part of 'I can't be a part of this' didn't you understand?"

"Everything!" she cried. "Angel, I know there's a whole complicated, extremely morally questionable—no, morally  _wrong_ —backstory to this, but we're talking about  _William_."

"I know," Angel replied sharply. "I  _know_ it's William, and that's why I can't. If it were anyone else…"

Releasing her grip on Angel's arm, Judith folded her own hands in front of herself in stern, hardly-controlled patience. In that moment, the clear blue of her eyes reminded Angel strongly of ice over a deep lake. He could almost see the ice becoming thinner with each step he took.

"You cannot gain my trust as a mentor for my son and then break it for some centuries-old vendetta, Angel," Judith said coldly. "There must be more to this 'moral dilemma' of yours than you let on, because, I'm sorry, I just can't believe that you're taking the so-called moral high ground in this case. I can't believe you care that little about William."

A red taxi cab appeared around the corner and stopped by the cab column several meters away, the driver glancing curiously at them.

Angel took a slow, deep breath. "You're right," he said finally. "I don't care that little about William. I care that  _much_  about him. The instant the Powers That Be know that, they'll use him to get to me. It'd be different if it were just about Cordy: they already know how much she means to me. But they can't know that about William, or Calder, or even  _you_."

Judith bit her lip to stop its trembling; her heart hammered, though the rest of her body managed a statue-like stoicism. Angel shifted his weight again and continued.

"The fact that Cordy's been sent to get them back means that the Powers want them on their side. Helping you is directly helping them and their cause. I can't do that, Judith. It kills me to sit by and do nothing, but I promised to protect your son, and this time, nothing is the best I can do."

Angel turned, and started walking away again. He turned his head so she could hear him as he walked. "Take the cab to the Hotel Callaghan. Room 328," he repeated. Then he slipped into the first alley he could and let the darkness swallow him.


	7. Chapter 7

Angel was right: Cordelia didn't mind being woken up at close to four in the morning—not when Judith introduced herself and explained her problem, anyway. Cordelia took the news that Angel had decided against involvement in stride, masking her true reaction with practiced ease and switching her focus to the problem at hand. She did not, however, take the news that something had happened to the boys nearly so well.

Judith relayed everything Angel had already deduced on their visit to the Lauchleys, and then Cordelia asked Judith to take her back to Calder's flat in the morning so she could do her own investigative work and with concern in her eyes, begged Judith to try and get some rest on the extra bed in her hotel room. Judith was hardly able to sleep, but closing her eyes into the pillow helped somewhat anyway. That, along with some forced breakfast at the buffet downstairs a few hours later before they left, gave her enough energy to continue pushing through her fear for the rest of the morning.

"Well?" she asked, once again at Calder's bedroom door, the sun now streaming through the window. Mrs. Lauchley had just left to take breakfast out of the heater, and Judith watched Cordelia circle the room as she had watched Angel the night before.

"I think Angel's right," Cordelia said. "They didn't leave this room—not in the normal sense, anyway, of actually walking out." She paused and waited while Calder's younger brother passed by sleepily in the hall, glancing at them with suspicion. "There's a strong trail of magic here." She narrowed her eyes, as though searching for something. "But I think it started…" Her eyes rested on the doorway where Judith was standing anxiously. "Right about where you are."

"This is where Angel said the others were."

"It's not too hard to put two and two together, then," she replied, coming over to stand next to Judith. "I don't think we're going to find them in this city, Judith."

"What do you mean?" The swarm of bees that had taken up permanent residence in Judith's stomach since the night before began to buzz with new vigor.

"I mean, William and Calder aren't in Kansas anymore."

Judith frowned. She understood the reference, but not the implication behind it. "Then where are they?"

"My guess," Cordelia sighed. "Another dimension." Then she swore under her breath in a language that Judith didn't know, but the intonation was clear enough.

Judith paled, and the bees began stinging her already sore stomach.

"Don't worry," Cordelia rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'm a professional with dimensions, remember? I'm going to see what I can figure out about the magic these guys used. But I need you to make sure that they," Cordelia nodded her head down the hall toward the kitchen, "don't come back unexpectedly. Okay?"

Judith knew it was a common technique to assign a job to someone in distress in order to calm them, but she was grateful for it. She nodded, and Cordelia positioned herself cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed. Judith backed away, watching Cordelia anxiously, and guarding the hall to the kitchen with a slight sense of helpful purpose.

A few long minutes later, Cordelia opened her eyes and looked up.

"Well?" Judith asked again in breathless suspense. "Do you know where my son is?"

"No," Cordelia replied. "But I know who sent him there."

* * *

It wasn't more than 30 minutes, but to William, waiting and watching felt like hours. Hidden in the safety of crowds in the lobby, he moved from one group to another as they formed and dissolved as superficially as foam on the ocean. He did his best to "act like he belonged" as Calder had instructed, but William wasn't much of an actor, even  _if_ he looked the part (which, dressed as he was, he didn't). But he was better than Calder would have been, and that was why he was the one that was going to steal the key.

William was eventually able to snag a chair and a newspaper and effectively hide himself where he could watch the front desk activity. Calder had told him to wait until Frank the bellhop was alone, but between him and the general manager, Frank was the one to more often leave to transport bags, while the manager stayed behind at his desk behind the counter.

It finally happened, though, when the manager stood up and announced something to Frank, who nodded his head and didn't look up from the comic section of the paper. William's heart skipped a beat and then plunged into his twisting stomach. He needed one hand to hold the paper, so with sweaty fingers he pulled out his Palm and, careful to conceal it behind the paper, told Calder,

 _Now_.

Seconds later, Calder came into the lobby from the front door and made a beeline for Frank. Trying to keep his breaths from shaking too much, William scanned the rest of the room, praying that nothing was about to go amiss. He noticed an empty spot on the circular couch in the center of the lobby that was a little closer to the front desk. He shoved his Palm back in his pocket as he stood up and edged over to it.

"No seriously," Calder was saying to an annoyed-looking Frank, "ask him yourself."

As a diversion, Calder was using William's original idea of drawing on their relationship with Angel to get them a room on the off-chance that it worked (but mostly, William suspected, it was so that Calder would have gloating rights if it didn't). William sat down on the couch and peered around his paper.

Frank's glare was far too suspicious for William's liking. "Oh yeah? Where's that's friend of yours? The tall one?"

"Upstairs with Angel right now," Calder replied without missing a beat.

"Hey!"

William jumped at the sharp voice of the man who suddenly stepped between William and his view of the front desk. "I was sitting there, kid."

"Sorry," William practically leapt up from the seat. "Sorry," he said again, and sidled over to one of the columns level with the front counter, burying his face back in the newspaper as quickly as he could. He couldn't see Frank anymore, and if Calder noticed William there, he didn't show it.

"Yeah, right," Frank said.

William quickly pulled the newspaper around to block his entire view as Frank came into sight around the opposite column, listening intently as Calder protested and resisted being taken back outside. William peaked around the edge of the newspaper again cautiously. People were watching, now, with mild interest. Calder was doing his best to keep Frank's back toward William, and he knew that this was his chance. He took a deep breath and, newspaper still up, crossed to the end of the counter in a few long strides, double-checked that everyone was still watching Calder, and ducked low behind the counter.

The keys were all there on tiny brass hooks, and William wished he'd thought to consider which one might be the best to take. Higher floor for a smaller chance to run into Frank? Or lower floor for a quicker escape route? A room in the middle of a block of other occupied rooms to hide in a crowd? Or in the middle of an unoccupied block to hide in silence?

The sound of a toilet flushing made William jump again. He cursed under his breath and took a key at random and turned to go back the way he came, crouching to stay below the counter level.

"And stay out this time or I'll call the cops, y'hear?"

William froze as the front door closed. He cursed under his breath again. Frank would have turned around by now.

William spun around and noticed a door to what he assumed was an adjoining office or back room of some sort. It was ajar. Without a second thought, he dropped his newspaper and dashed toward the door, still crouched awkwardly like a running ape, and was through just in time for the bathroom door to swing open and Frank to return to his position by the front desk, stopping to pick up the dropped newspaper and adding it to his own pile.

"What the heck was that all about, Frank?" the manager asked.

William let out a long, trembling breath as Frank answered dismissively. He looked around in the dimness of the room. It was indeed an office, with the same deep green walls and an important-looking wooden desk opposite him. William wondered briefly if that was the same desk Angel used when he bought the hotel.

"Keep a sharp eye," the manager was saying. "The last thing we need's more mishaps…"

William glanced around the office again and this time noticed the other door. "Oh thank God," he breathed, and stood up quietly. He stole across the office to the door and tried the knob. Locked.

"Damn," William hissed.

He felt around the knob, wondering how on earth locks like these worked. He'd seen them used in movies and holos, of course, but how accurate were those? William looked at the key in his hand and tried to fit it into the keyhole, but with no luck. At least, not without a great deal of scraping and pushing. William eyed the other door nervously, but heard no ominous sounds.

"Think," he whispered to himself.

William inspected the rest of the locking mechanism on the brass panel attached to the door. No amount of pushing, pulling, or twisting on the circular handle itself unlocked the door, even though the actual handle twisted promisingly. There must be a deadbolt in there that the proper key released, William reasoned. He tried the key again, but only the very tip would go in.

" _Alohomora,_ " he whispered, just in case Hogwarts had forgotten his letter (or, more likely, in case it was a real magic spell-why hadn't Angel ever taught them useful magic like this?).

He wrapped his hands around the knob and tried to summon the feeling of magic in his body, and when he felt the faintest tingle that might actually be magic, he imagined the door springing open.

Several moments later, the door remained solidly locked. William let out a desperate sigh. He fingered the panel with the handle and the strange little guage-like thing above it. He had assumed that it was some sort of primitive meter that showed if the door was locked or unlocked, but now that he touched it, he found that it wiggled. Intrigued, he wrapped his fingers awkwardly around it and twisted.

A deadbolt slid back. William nearly collapsed with relief. He opened the door and slid out, being sure to shut it carefully behind him, and then turned and practically ran up the opposite stairs and down the halls at random until he felt far enough away from Frank and the manager. Then, collapsing out of breath against a wall, he pulled out the key again and texted the room number to Calder, who would somehow sneak his way back in and meet him there.

William decided then and there that stealing things was far too stressful, and whatever chances he had at becoming a professional thief were now officially null.

* * *

"How does this work again?" Judith asked, biting her lip against the anxiety of her first real dip into the supernatural world—her friendship with Angel notwithstanding.

"Oh, it's easy," Cordelia replied airily. "It's not even a spell, technically. It's more like a..." she faltered. "Well, okay, let's just call it a spell. The people-slash-things that sent William and Calder to Wherever They Are live in the cracks of space. That's how they got in and out of the apartment without using doors or windows: they basically poked their little heads out of the crack, did their mojo, and jumped back in. We're going to do the same, only in reverse. It shouldn't take long. You don't even have to come with me if you don't want to."

"Yes, I do," Judith replied, and sat down on the floor of Cordelia's hotel room opposite her. "I would like to meet these things face-to-face. Er… They  _do_  have faces, right?"

Cordelia shrugged. "Theoretically. Here, take this and hold it in your left hand," she handed Judith a piece of incense that they had picked up at Ferguson's Occultte Shop on the way home.

"What's this for?" Judith asked.

"For clarity in helping us find the right crack," Cordelia replied. "Don't ask me how, it just works. Ready? Take my hand."

They grasped right hands as though frozen in a handshake and, following Cordelia's lead, Judith closed her eyes. Almost immediately, a buzzy, humming noise filled the room, though Judith couldn't tell if Cordelia was making it or not. Determined not to do anything that might throw them off track, however, she stayed quite still with her eyes fixedly closed. Cordy's hand was warm in hers, and with a jolt like a train jumping tracks, Judith was suddenly reminded of Evie's warm touch. She bit her lip harder.

"Here we are," Cordy said, and Judith realized that the buzzing had stopped. Cordelia released her hand as she stood up and Judith tentatively opened her eyes. The darkness was oddly tangible, like they were surrounded by deeply black walls that she could touch if she stretched out her hand far enough. Judith stood up as well, and noticed that their incense sticks were gone.

"Not quite what I was expecting," Cordy said, staring at something behind Judith. She flicked a lock of curled brown hair out of her eyes. "But I guess you can't judge a bad guy by his house…"

Judith turned and thought that she must disagree with Cordelia on this one. Standing in the middle of the solid darkness was a cheerful, immaculately pristine thatched-roofed cottage. Brightly-colored pansies grew weed-less in the flower boxes and the flagstones that they stood upon leading to polished wood door were cut and laid in such precise evenness that Judith wasn't sure such a thing was even possible where she came from.

Cordelia now walked swiftly along the path to the door and knocked three times. Judith had just caught up to her when the door opened and she stifled a gasp. A tiny, rather ugly-looking childlike form glared up at them with not a curved feature on his (or her?) angular face and murky, green-ish skin. It steepled its hands under its sharply-pointed chin and tapped its pointed fingers together impatiently. Judith noticed the one hand only had three fingers, while the other had more than she count count at one glance.

"What?" it said irritably through its slanted line of a mouth.

Cordelia turned to Judith briefly and nodded. "That's one of them."

An unexpected flare of anger lit inside Judith and she stepped out from behind Cordelia to face the thing properly. "Where is my son?" she demanded.

"Don't know, don't care," a second creature-similar-looking to the first but with slightly lighter green skin-said in a sing-song tone, appearing at the door beside the other. "Who bothers us in our humble home? Us who knows nothing that need not be known?"

"An angry mother," answered a third, pulling the door open just wide enough to peer inquisitively at the visitors. This third creature looked much the same as the first two, except that the few sparse wires that might have been hair jutting out from the top of its head had been so neatly straightened that they might have been ironed that way. Judith guessed that this was the one responsible for the neatness of the cottage. "Clearly," it added with a sneer.

"And an angry Seer if you don't tell us where you sent them soon," Cordelia said. "And by soon, I mean now."

"Them?" said the first.

"Them who?" asked the third.

"Two boys," Cordy said, "yea tall, you sent them to another dimension yesterday. I'm sure you remember."

"Didn't open a dimension-portal," sang the second with a gleeful grin. "Too dangerous, too beyond our meager skills. Can't  _imagine_ what you mean!"

"Oh, don't start," Cordy replied, a hand on her hip. "I  _know_  you did it."

"But if you need methods of persuasion," Judith reached over and delicately picked a pansy out of the flower box, on the hunch of someone who also valued orderliness. The third gasped in horror. "I'm sure we can find a method to suit each of you…er…what are you, exactly?" Judith finished with an overly-sweet smile. The corner of Cordy's mouth twitched appreciatively.

The first, entirely unfazed by the picked flower, said with relished drama, "We are called…  _The Three._ "

"Oh please," Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Do you have  _any_  idea how many trios I've seen call themselves 'The Three'? It's called 'originality.' Look it up."

"But we are the  _original_  Thr—"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that before, too. Look, you can call yourselves the Three Musketeers, for all I care. Judith, that flower looks entirely too in-one-piece to me."

Judith picked off a petal and dropped it on the ground with a half smile. Her own glee in the act frightened her a tiny bit. The third gasped again and looked at the paved walkway in horror as more flower pieces littered the ground. Judith dropped the stem and picked another flower from the flowerbox with a stony glare.

"Do you have  _any_  idea how hard those are to grow in this light?!" the third wailed. " _Do_  something!" it said to the others, who still did not seem terribly upset by the mutilated flowers.

"Where's my son?" Judith asked again.

"Wrong question," the first said.

"Why did you send them there—wherever they are?" Cordy asked.

"Don't ask, don't tell," the second growled melodically. "Don't know, just do. It's our way. It's our job."

Judith tossed another petal on the dirt-less walkway. "Did someone hire you to do it?"

"Smart one, that," said the first.

"Not if she keeps dirtying my path," the third one said, struggling to push through the other two. "Not smart at all."

Judith dropped the whole flower onto the ground to rest beside the first. The third gasped again.

"Who hired you?" Judith asked.

"Don't ask, don't tell," the second repeated. "Just get paid." It grinned. "Nosy people can't know what we don't know."

Judith reached over and grasped another delicate flower stem in her between her forefinger and thumb.

"No!" the third cried. "We get the job, we do the job, that's it, that's all we know. We pushed and we don't know where they landed."

"And now," the first said, "it's time."

"Time, time, time," echoed the second.

"For you to,  _Go_!" the third finished. And they simultaneously shoved at the air in front of them. Judith and Cordelia flew back, the flower stem snapping in Judith's hand, and suddenly their feet hit the ground of an ally, the bright daylight blinding them. The flower dropped to the ground by Judith's feet.

"Well…" Cordelia said. "Crap."

"What now?" Judith asked despondently. The angry flare in her stomach began to melt under the weight of grief that was now settling in.

"I'm not sure," Cordy admitted. "Give me time to thi—Shh!"

Judith listened, and suddenly Cordelia pushed her back against the wall of the ally. A few seconds later, two eerily familiar voices whisked by their hiding place, and Judith watched in shock as a version of herself and Cordelia walked past the alley, Cordelia holding a small bag of incense and Judith asking exactly how they would find these people that Cordy was looking for. Judith double-tapped her Palm bracelet, which had already adjusted to the satellite's signal that kept the world's date and time. She gasped slightly.

"It's almost 20 minutes  _before_  we left," she said in astonishment.

"Traveling to and from space cracks is never very specific," Cordelia said. "It has to do with the whole space-time continuum thing." She glanced out of the alley at their retreating past selves and sighed.

Judith let the wall of the ally support her as she began to process what they'd learned. "Nothing," she said eventually. "They told us nothing."

"Let's not say  _nothing_ ," Cordelia started.

The anger returned quickly, and Judith stood upright. "Cordelia, not even the  _things_  that took my son away know where he is, how the  _hell_  are we supposed to find him?"

Cordelia crossed her arms and stood to her full height, too. Their eyes met at the same level. "I'm working on it," she said solidly, with more confidence than Judith had yet heard. "I've been working for the Powers for 500 years; I'm  _good_ at what I do. Look into my eyes: we're  _not_  out of options."

Judith looked at her and could find no lies (though she imagined that Cordelia would have had plenty of time and opportunity to practice lying—but she decided not to think about it). She relaxed, reluctantly. "I'm sorry," she said. "Of course, you would know better than me how hopeless—"

"—Or not," Cordelia interrupted.

"Or not…the situation is." She took a deep breath. "So what  _is_  our next option?"

"I need to think about it."

Judith bit her lip and nodded slowly, processing. "Perhaps we should reconvene in a bit, over dinner. I'll cook."

"Oh, you really don't need to…"

"No, I enjoy it. It soothes me. And you need time to think without me breathing down your neck. I live on the corner of Monivea and Castlepark, Sparrow Flats, number 325. Come when you're hungry." Then Judith gave her a small smile, though she wasn't sure what it was supposed to convey, except giving the appearance of looking better than she felt, and went home, leaving them both space for their own thoughts.

* * *

William and Calder's first night in the Hyperion Hotel was a restless one. They both spent the night nervously tossing and turning, tiny voices in their heads pointing out the terrifying thought that they had no idea what their next step would be—if there was a next step at all. With no idea how they got there in the first place, where were they supposed to look to reverse it?  _Was_  there a reverse at all?

Plus, the gunshot in the room right below them didn't help their nerves at all.

In the morning, they argued briefly over if they should chance using room service to order breakfast. On the one hand, there weren't computers in this time era, so it would probably take a long time for one of the staff to realize that they shouldn't be there (after all, Frank couldn't be the bellhop  _all_  the time-maybe he just had the night shift). On the other hand, they needed to be able to stay there as long as possible and couldn't draw any attention to themselves. But on a third hand, they were hungry.

They finally decided not to risk it until they were desperate, and instead decided to focus on their problem of getting home. William and Calder each sat on their respective beds and stared at each other.

"Well…" William said. "Any ideas?"

Calder shrugged. "Get out of this room? They had terrible decorators in the 1950's. Also…it's creepy here."

William nodded and lowered his voice like he was afraid of being overheard. "I think it's the paranoia demon." He glanced around as if he could see it if he tried. "Angel said it was already here when he moved in, and it took him a while to figure out it was here because only affected a few people at first—and this is a very paranoid time in American history, so he thought it was just humans being humans."

"It can't hurt  _us_ , though," Calder said uncertainly. "We're safe here, right, because it's not solid? We just have to not listen to it if it targets us."

William nodded. "I think that's right… Either way, we need to figure out how to get home before things get too bad."

"Like it did for the guy with the gun downstairs?"

William swallowed. "Let's go see if Angel's a bit more cheerful this morning."

They both stood up with a new sense of purpose. William grabbed their room key, and they made their way out of their room and to the stairs.

Fortune, it seemed, was on their side, because as they passed by the second floor, they crossed the line of sight with Angel, who seemed to be heading back to his room with some fresh ice; still somewhat bleary-eyed, though it was late morning. The boys froze as they locked eyes for a long second with Angel. He was so cold.

Angel broke the eye contact as he drew level with his unlocked door.

"Angel," William called. "Angel, just one thing." William hurried forward, but Angel ignored him and turned the handle.

"Please, just tell us where we can find an occult shop," William said, and Angel paused.

William stopped several yards away from Angel, and Calder stood still by the stairs. "That's all we want," William said quietly. "And we won't bother you again."

Angel glanced at William again with slightly less chill, and said abruptly, "Go two blocks east and take a right. There's a guy there named Denver who owns a bookstore and has a reputation for dealing in…different…kinds of merchandise. Right-hand side." And then he pushed open his door, slid through it, and clicked it shut behind him.

William stood an extra few seconds before turning and returning to Calder.

"Wow," Calder said. "Good work, Will. I guess he  _is_  more cheerful this morning."


	8. Chapter 8

Angel hadn't moved from his bed all morning. Or all night. After wandering the dark streets aimlessly for an hour or so, hoping that the motion would push the burdensome thoughts from his mind (to no avail), he sought refuge in his quiet, dark flat. No longer dark, yet still quiet, the thoughts in Angel's mind had gathered weight rather than seeped away.

Angel hated sitting around. He really did. However many times Cordy had teased him about liking to sit alone and brood for hours on end, it wasn't usually his choice—it was his thoughts. It was the combination of confusing, frustrating, and painful thoughts that clashed together and froze him into immobility until he could make sense of them; and it was only the vampiric side of him, built for long, silent hours of stalking prey, that allowed him to brood for so long without going completely stir-crazy. Usually by now he would have gotten up to get something to eat or flipped idly through a book without even knowing what it said. But his body wasn't even close to moving in either direction. Maybe it had something to with the fact that part of him feared that if he allowed himself to move, he would find himself unable to stop from walking out the door and helping Judith and Cordy…and the Powers…find William and Calder.

The Powers. They were responsible for this whole mess that his mind was in, more than anyone could know. More than Cordelia knew and certainly more than Judith or the boys knew. Angel would probably be tracking the boys down right now if it weren't for what the Powers… He closed his eyes. How could a fury that burned this much make him so inert?

He sighed: his first real movement in hours. His lungs felt creaky at the expansion and thirsty as the dry air hit them. He was pretty sure he was out of blood. Tonight, he would get more. Until then, he might twitch his hand or blink his eyes. But for the most part, his thoughts would freeze him.

* * *

Cordelia felt marginally better after a hot shower, a quick and restless nap, and a chocolate mint from the newly-made pillow in her hotel room.

And oh yeah, the vision she had perked up her spirits a bit, too. It meant the Powers weren't _too_ upset with her for entirely failing her mission of protecting the boys, and had even decided to help her fix it. She knew other Seers who weren't nearly so lucky, although she also knew the underlying sense of anger that came with the vision was a message for her: _Don't do it again_.

A part of her wanted to bitterly reply, _Then think before sending_ me _across_ _Angel's_ _path!_

But of course, she held her tongue because her own reaction to Angel wasn't the fault of the Powers. She could have chosen to play catch-up and visit Connor _after_ making sure her charges were safe. The Powers would have given her that, at least, before sending her off again. But she'd failed the boys and the Powers in that, and her only comfort was the vision: at least the boys were still alive, wherever they were.

Not that she could make much else of the cryptic message. It was the most abstract vision she'd received in a long time: aching loneliness, sharp betrayal, a sensation of falling but with an element of forcefulness, and a general upset, shifting, regurgitating feeling that left her nauseous. The only part that made sense was a brief and faded image of an older William and Calder wielding swords in the face of a horde of enemies so fierce it would have made the now-legendary Buffy's blood run cold. However, the very fact that the Powers communicated with Cordy reminded her that she wasn't alone; that they _wanted_ her to solve this. That made all the difference.

Cordelia took the tram to the other side of town before dinner, returning to Calder's flat to try to pick up on anything new she might have missed that morning. Mrs. Lauchley let her in again and Cordy made a show of looking for physical clues while actually searching for metaphysical ones. She found the tiny rift the three had made by the door, thin like a paper cut, and she took several moments to study it after Mrs. Lauchley had left to go do something that Cordelia hadn't bothered to pay attention to.

The rift felt different than normal. Like it was angled, even though the crack was perfectly straight, like a surgeon's cut. The Three had been doing this a long time. Cordelia pondered the rift until it she was hungry and tired of thinking enough to go for dinner, and she called a cab using the column outside the building.

A few minutes later, Cordy was at Sparrow Flats, and Judith opened the door promptly after Cordy's knock with a warmer greeting than Cordy expected. She looked much better, as well, with a shower, a change of clothes, and, it seemed, also a short nap.

The scent of something spicy curled around Judith and out into the hall and Cordy breathed deeply. No business over dinner seemed like a very good rule to enforce just then, and with a warm greeting in return, Cordelia followed Judith inside. The kitchen seemed so incomprehensible to Cordelia compared to Angel's kitchen that she didn't even bother looking around, opting instead to sit at the table in front of a pot of steaming tea.

"Would you like some?" Judith asked.

"I'd love some," Cordelia said, and Judith poured out two cups of tea.

"How are you?" Judith asked, just as Cordy had taken a breath to speak.

"I was about to ask the same thing," Cordelia smiled.

"You first," Judith said, and went to stir something on what looked like a stove—at least, it was flat and thin ( _too_ thin), and jutted out from the wall at about waist height with a large saucepan sitting on it, so Cordelia assumed that's what it must be.

"I'm good," she replied a little too cheerily, spooning a cube of sugar into the tea. "I'm…refreshed."

Judith nodded. "As am I." She pulled the large stirring spoon out of the spicy (and mildly sweet-smelling, now that Cordy was closer) mixture and then dipped a testing spoon in. "But that's not exactly what I meant."

Cordelia glanced up in surprise. Judith's expression briefly became a far away look as she decided which ingredient she needed to add. Then she promptly returned her attention, set the spoon down, and chose a bottle of a burnt-orange spice on the counter that was probably turmeric. Firmly tapping the small glass jar over the mixture and stirring a few more times, Judith continued,

"I don't mean to pry," she turned to look Cordy in the eye as she stirred, "I just thought you should have the opportunity to say things that you need to say. I've been in my own little world since Will went missing…but I can't imagine these past few days have been any easier on you, either, with everything going on with Angel; and I'm sure there's more than I know. Though I must say, you're handling it better than he was." She gave Cordy a small smile.

Cordy half-smiled in return. "No surprise there…" she said, glancing down at her tea and tucking one foot underneath herself. She took a deep breath, feeling unexpectedly dizzy and a bit unsettled from the dive into the topic of Angel, having spent so much recent energy on avoiding it. She had hoped that dinner might have included more pleasant conversation, and though she could so easily steer it that way, the part of her that had always voiced the hard topics—the part that had become her trademarked tactless-but-in-the-end-helpful personality quirk—told her quite persuasively to go with it this time. If Judith was offering a listening ear, even though she had every reason not to…

Cordelia bit her lip and stared into her steaming tea as she said, "So you've talked to him recently? Besides last night, I mean, with the whole…not helping decision."

"Yesterday," Judith nodded. She sat down in the chair opposite Cordelia. "Yesterday? It seems so long ago now. We ran into each other in front of his building. I have a friend who lives there and it was her turn to host card night. Angel seemed quite a bit more confused and frustrated than you do, but that might just be because he was the one who had to make the choice."

"Yeah…" Cordelia agreed. "He never did handle decisions well. Especially not the fast ones." She cautiously sipped her tea. It was still too hot. Cordy looked up. "So…what did he tell you about all this? And by the way, in this and any other future cases, when it comes to Angel, I _do_ mean to pry. He's used to it."

A smile tugged at the corner of Judith's mouth. "What would you like to hear that would make you feel better?"

Cordelia sat and marveled at the rarity of the situation: she was temporarily speechless. "Um…" she started, then gave a small laugh. "Man, you got to the heart of it, didn't you?"

Judith shrugged. "I'm a Pillar Therapist," she said as if that explained everything.

"A what?"

"Oh, I suppose it _is_ a relatively new term," Judith replied, quickly recovering from her brief surprise. "And a somewhat new position," she added. She took a moment to choose her words, and then said, "I am a third-party person of support at the hospital for patients and families-like a chaplain but without a particular religious order. So you see, it's my job to get to the heart of things."

"You must be good at it," Cordelia said. She tried the tea again to buy time. It had been so long since she was on this side of a counseling session. She wondered briefly if it was unprofessional to let the conversation continue on this track, but something in Judith's expectant gaze compelled her to speak anyway. Yes, Judith was definitely good at it. "I guess…" she said, "I want to know what he was thinking. What made him decide to—well, 'abandon' isn't the right word, but…"

"I don't know what made him decide not to help us," Judith replied. "Honestly, I thought for sure that he would. But he said, 'if it were anyone else…'"

"Other than me?"

"Other than us. He said that the Powers would use us to get to him. They already knew how much he cares for you; I don't think you were a factor in his ultimate decision. Quite the opposite, actually. But he said that the Powers That Be couldn't know that the rest of us mean enough to him to throw away the lives of the people he let die for his cause. It would have been rather touching if I weren't so furious. And also clearly, we don't mean that much to him."

Cordelia raised her eyebrows skeptically. "I don't know, I've seen Angel when he cares. He does this sometimes. You know, he has that whole, I've-got-to-protect-my-friends-by-pushing-them-away mentality. I tried to cure him of it, but it's really stuck in there." She paused to watch the tea swirl in her cup when she blew gently on it.

"It's just that I'm usually there when he makes decisions like this," Cordy continued. "And seeing his thought process—even if I don't understand it—makes it…easier somehow." Cordy glanced up. "Like I can see a few of the puzzle pieces to Angel's messed-up vampire mind. You know?"

"And you hope to figure it out when you have enough pieces?" Judith asked, standing to check whatever was in the saucepan and to fetch bowls from the cabinet.

"Less figuring out; more understanding. I know—I… _knew_ Angel pretty well. I get _what_ goes through his mind, just not _why_. Getting him to talk sometimes helps answer some of those 'whys.' I'm actually pretty impressed you got as much out of him as you did."

"I have a teenage boy," Judith said matter-of-factly. "There is surprisingly little difference."

Cordy smiled, but then hesitated. Something had just occurred to her that made her stomach knot unexpectedly and sit heavily inside her. She set down her tea mug.

"Are you and Angel seeing each other?" she asked. Time and certain sensitive other-dimension-ly cultures had taught her the art of tactfulness and dancing around the bush quite well, but in cases like this she vastly preferred her old, much more efficient ways.

Judith glanced over from ladling a steaming dark orange soup into one of the bowls, a bit surprised at the question. "No," she said.

The knot in Cordy's stomach relaxed.

"Angel intrigues me, but I think we are not well-suited for each other. I intimidate him, for one thing." Judith smiled at Cordelia as she set down the steaming bowls and turned to fetch a small loaf of crusty, sliced bread from the counter. "Also, that sense of attraction that is generally required of such cases is simply not present—on either side, I think."

Cordy nodded. "That's a whole lot of potential awkwardness safely avoided, then."

Judith smiled again as she sat down. "Thank goodness for that. This is pumpkin curry, by the way. I probably should have asked you if you like spicy food. And I completely forgot to ask about dietary restrictions, but this recipe avoids all the major ones."

"I love spicy food and have no restrictions whatsoever," Cordy replied, scooping up a chunk of pumpkin and blowing the steam away. "No _Earth_ restrictions, anyway. It's been forever since I've had curry." She took a cautious bite.

"Then I hope it's as good as you remember."

"It's better," Cordelia responded truthfully, if obligingly, savoring the heat of the sauce lingering in her throat. She allowed a short pause before redirecting the conversation again, fully committed now to talking through this until she reached some kind of resolution.

"So back to prying into Angel's life…"

Judith gave her an amused glance that invited her to continue.

"I'm honestly a little—no, _really_ —thrown off by how big a deal this whole decision was for him. I get that he wants to protect you guys—which is sweet—but back in my day his idea of protecting was a whole lot more active."

"I thought you said he had a pushing-away-friends-to-protect-them mentality?" Judith said.

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe," Cordy replied. "But he gives in if you push hard enough. Honestly, half our conversations were, 'No, Cordy, I can't let you come with me.' 'Too bad, Angel, 'cause I'm coming anyway.' Then Angel would roll his eyes and that was that. The only time he ever _actually_ pushed us away no matter how hard we fought back was… Well, I don't think Angel's going to go off and kill a bunch of lawyers again…"

"Excuse me?" Judith said in alarm, but Cordelia continued,

"Anyway, I get the protecting thing, and I also get that he hates the PTB for the whole Connor thing, but shouldn't he be over that by now? Wouldn't you be, after 200 years, if it was _your_ son? I mean, clearly the whole thing was _not_ okay and he has every right to hate the Powers, but…" Cordy had suddenly noticed Judith's expression: clouded and dark with utter confusion. Cordy frowned. "What?"

" _My_ son?" Judith said. "What whole thing? Who's Connor? _What_ lawyers?"

Cordy stared at Judith in shock. Judith and Angel had known each other for _years_ and Angel had yet to tell Judith that he had a living son, in that very city, whom he visited _every day_?

"He hasn't told you about Connor?" Cordy said softly. "At all?'

Judith shook her head. "No."

Cordelia swore under her breath in a demonic language she was fairly certain Judith did not speak.

"Who is he?" Judith asked.

Cordelia glanced into her curry, wondering if she wanted to throw herself into the telling of Connor's story (even the basics of which would take eons to describe), or if she wanted to let Angel do it, now that it was bound to come up. It was mostly his story, after all, and in the end his prerogative to choose who he told it to—whether she agreed with that choice or not. Not that that had ever stopped her before, and knowing Connor's story was more than relevant to the situation. She looked up and took a deep breath.

"Connor is Angel's son."

Judith's spoon clanged loudly into her bowl, splattering orange curry broth on the table. Cordelia slowly ate a few more bites to give time for Judith to process the rather heavy news. When Judith seemed ready to speak, Cordelia held up a hand.

"A few preliminary answers," she said, and held up a finger with each number to cover the bases: that, no, vampires can't have children without prophetic, weird mystical involvement, who Darla was, that Connor was human-plus-a-bit-extra, and, "Four: I have no idea why Angel never told you about him. My guess: it's a long, painful story filled with betrayal, lost-loves, murder, lies, and death. And that's just in the first 18 months after Connor was born."

Judith breathed in deeply; Cordy could see the dizziness in her eyes. "My god…" she said softly.

"Personally," Cordy continued, "I don't think that's a good enough reason not to tell you about him after all these years, considering Connor's here in the city."

Judith's head snapped up. "He _is_?"

"Angel moved him here to live in the land of his heritage. Connor's living in a retirement home near here. St.-Someone's."

"St. Anthony's?" Judith asked.

Cordelia nodded, "That sounds right. I was kind of blown away myself, so I didn't really pay much attention to the signs, but that could be it."

"That's hardly ten minutes from here. I used to visit my great-aunt there… I can't even…" Judith rubbed her forehead, breathed in deeply again, and then looked up. "What on earth happened to Connor that would keep Angel from telling us about him?"

"Well," Cordy said, picking up another piece of bread and tearing the crust off to chew intermittently between sentences. "Same thing that made him so mad at the PTB, I guess. There was a whole line of preventable incidents that happened, which Angel blames the PTB for. The cliffnotes _of_ the cliffnotes version is that Connor was kidnapped and raised in a hell dimension by a guy who hated Angel because of what Angel did to his family in his evil-vampire days. Being the special, prophesied kid that Connor was, he was used and lied to by a whole lot of different people, my hijacked-and-possessed-by-an-evil-demigoddess-body included, and in the end was so messed up—and I mean the kind of messed up that goes all terrorist with homemade bombs strapped to people; to _kids_ —that Angel cut a deal with the devil to give him a normal life—i.e. to _not_ be Angel's son anymore. Except in the biological sense."

Judith frowned, trying her best to follow.

"Essentially," Cordy continued, "the lovely evil people at Wolfram & Hart Law Firm took Connor away and gave everyone new memories. No one who knew him as Angel's son remembered anything about him, and they gave Connor and his new family memories of him being raised in a loving, stable household. Call it the mystical version of adoption."

"And that's why Angel killed the lawyers?" Judith asked.

Cordy had to give her props for trying to understand the story, however hopeless it might be. "No, that was pre-Connor," she replied. "Forget about the lawyers for now. Anyway, Angel and I were the only ones left with our real memories intact, for some reason. I was in a coma at the time—body-hijacking, remember—so they probably didn't bother to change my memories, and Angel…well, I guess he's just not allowed to be happy. I've actually wondered if his curse went farther than just the sex thing; you know, if the curse _actively_ tries to prevent happiness."

" _What_?" Judith's confusion was almost painful to look at now.

"Oh, now _don't_ tell me he hasn't told you about the curse," Cordy said incredulously, fully prepared to be furious at Angel for neglecting to mention that he might someday turn evil and kill them all.

"Well, the curse of his soul, of course, and that it could be broken by a moment of perfect happiness," Judith replied.

"Oh good," Cordy replied, breathing a sigh of relief.

"But…" Judith said, "the sex thing?"

"Oh, well, we didn't find out the happiness side of the curse until after he…you know…with his girlfriend."

Judith gave a nod of bewildered understanding.

"Anyway, back to Connor," Cordy continued. "I'm not really sure what happened after Angel gave Connor up, except that Connor apparently got his memories back eventually—but of course he had a stable, if completely fake, background, and could deal with his real past by then—and I don't know anything else. Angel wasn't very forthcoming about the intervening 200 years, and I didn't really push it. I just wanted to see Connor when I found out he was still here."

Judith swallowed. "And did you say it was all preventable?"

"In theory," Cordelia replied. "There was a lot going on behind the scenes that we didn't know about until it was too late. But I had the visions, so Angel thinks the Powers should have warned us about it all beforehand."

"I would be inclined to agree," Judith said.

"And you would still be this furious after 200 years?"

Judith took a breath. "Do you have any children, Cordelia?"

"No," Cordy replied. "I mean, _technically_ I gave birth to the demi-goddess that took over my body, but I went into a coma after that and never really got a chance to do the mother-daughter bonding thing. Connor," Cordy took a deep breath to dispel the intense ickiness that overcame her on the few occasions she allowed herself to think about their relationship during that time, "was the closest I ever got to having a child."

Judith swallowed and nodded. "It's different than you'd expect. It's powerful and often frightening, how deeply you care for one little person. I had no idea—none—how much having a child would change my views of what love is. I thought I'd experienced it all before Will came along." She met Cordelia's eyes. "I was so very wrong."

Cordy swallowed this time, again temporarily lost for words. "I think," she said after a moment, "that this whole thing with William and Calder is bringing up bad memories for Angel. He understands your position a little too well."

"Could…" Judith started. "Could the same thing happen to me? When we find Will, would he be… No, never mind. He'll be alright."

"He'll be more than alright," Cordelia assured her. "If he were a lost cause, the Powers would have sent me on to something else by now."

Judith gave a small smile, nodded, and picked her spoon again to continue eating her cooling dinner. Cordelia did the same, and they spent several minutes in silence, each lost in her own thoughts. When Cordy had eaten her last bite, she set her spoon down and contemplated the empty bowl bottom for a few seconds. Then, fearing that she already knew the answer, she said suddenly,

"Can I ask you something?"

Judith looked up. "Of course."

"Did… Had you ever heard of me…before all of this?"

Judith set her spoon down with a soft _clink_. "No," she answered. "William said he remembered your name from Angel's stories. He only ever told the boys stories about his adventures when they were growing up, and me almost nothing at all." She paused. "Except that he went to hell once."

"So he _did_ tell you about Buffy?" Cordelia said in a somewhat incensed tone.

"Who?"

A small part of Cordy's stomach relaxed. "Guess not. Not even the love of his life gets a mention. Like none of us existed."

"I don't think he meant it like that."

"I don't either," Cordy replied, standing up to take her dish to the sink. "But funny thing about people: they don't actually die if someone still remembers them. I kept my family alive by telling the few friends I have about them; even the painful stuff. If I'd have known that Angel wouldn't do the same…" She shook her head, then turned away to wash her dish in the sink. Judith let her scrub in silence, knowing better than to point out where the dishwasher was.


	9. Chapter 9

William and Calder found the bookstore with relative ease—once they figured out which way was east (Calder had made a comment about the primitive lives of people without personal GPS's, tapping fruitlessly at buttons on William's now-useless Palm while William tried to block the device from public view).

Denver was only marginally helpful, as he seemed more interested in his magazine (which had a suspiciously false cover) than in helping two kids find a book about time-traveling. But when William offered to pay for it using a 23rd century Irish coin, he suddenly became much more attentive and gave them three volumes that held some marginal promise.

William and Calder spent the rest of the day at the hotel, shooing away nagging thoughts of doubt like flies, so that by early afternoon they were just as exhausted from trying not to be distracted as they were from deciphering the syntax of the ancient texts. Never before had they appreciated how good Angel was at choosing books for them to read that they'd actually like.

Suddenly, Calder shoved himself off his bed. "I need to breathe," he announced. He pulled on his shoes and William watched him leave and close the door behind him.

Then William slowly stood up to open the window by his bed, as though the breeze might carry away some of the buzzing thoughts in the room—either that or the noise outside might drown it out. William breathed a quiet sigh and dropped back down on his bed again to flip through the smallest of the three books. A slight breeze toyed with his dark hair, still mussed from sleep and lack of a brush to fix it. Calder wore the look much better than William did, and he imagined that the first thing his mother would do when-if...no, _when_ -they were reunited would be to fix it with several quick sweeps of her fingers. William had tried to imitate her movements that morning in front of the mirror, but to no avail.

 _They've left you,_ his mind suddenly said, as though the wind had carried the thought straight into his ear. His stomach clenched, and he tried to focus in the words on the page. _What are you going to do now?_

"I don't know," he mumbled, surprised to hear his voice out loud. The sound snapped him out of it a bit and he shook himself, bending over the book with a new fervor. There had to be a solution _somewhere_.

 _And what will you do if you find it?_ he asked himself. _You've never done magic by yourself._

"Calder's coming back," William said. "We'll figure it out."

_He left._

_Just like Dad._

"He'll be back soon," William said confidently.

_He never said he would come back._

"Stop it, you're being ridiculous."

_Am I?_

"Of course you are. Now shut up, brain. I need to concentrate."

* * *

Angel's foot hit a piece of broken glass on the ground. It clinked against the other shards, echoing quietly off the mountainous walls of cement bricks on either side of him. The glass crunched under his shoe, each individual snap clear and distinct in the stillness.

A lone rat scampered away from its discarded candy morsel, scared away like all other living creatures by the invisible wall that preceded Angel. Even the small community of heroin addicts that frequented the area had left, as though they felt him coming.

And Angel was not one to be crossed at the moment. He hadn't eaten all day and his head was beginning to throb—in addition to the ache already caused by lack of sleep and a day's worth of _not_ reaching a conclusion about if the choice he had made was the right one. He kicked at an empty, cracked vodka bottle and it shattered away from him like a spray of water.

Angel knew it would hit a split second before it did. That familiar tingling behind his eyes sparked and flashed, and he gasped. He closed his eyes tight against it. Then the pain slammed into him, and he in turn slammed into the ground. The shards of glass pushed into his hands and knees, and for all he knew sped through his body and cut to his brain like ice on a driving wind.

He saw William and Calder in bright flashes. He tried to close his eyes to shield against the brightness, forgetting that they were already closed. He saw ancient cars, the roaring deafening his ears, though the only real sound in the alley was the cries that came from his own throat. He saw the Hyperion Hotel, clearer than memory, and he felt the iciness of forced distance as he threatened to crush a scared kid's foot for his own good.

And suddenly, cooling blackness soothed his mind. He pulled in ragged gasps to distract himself against the hundreds of tiny glass bites in his skin and remnants of vision sparks.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. The ground glittered with glass and blood.

Angel gingerly sat back on his heels and looked at his hands. Through slightly blurred eyes, which were always a temporary effect of visions, the way the white moon caught his palms made it look as though he might have been an ivory statue cupping a treasure of diamonds and rubies. Angel closed his eyes again and shook his head gently.

The visions were supposed to be gone. He wasn't working for the Powers anymore—he thought they'd taken that curse away after what happened with the child…

It was a brilliant move on their part, he thought. Cruel, but brilliant.

The rat's tiny feet padded cautiously back into the moonlight, returning for its candy, and Angel shuddered against the night's cold that he didn't feel.

* * *

"Suicide!" Calder cried as he slammed the door behind him with his foot.

"What?" William jumped at the noise. "You're back!"

"That gunshot we heard last night? Suicide!" Calder hopped onto his bed without bothering to take his shoes off. "They're all talking about it down there—the guy just…" He mimed shooting his own head and let himself fall onto the mattress so hard he bounced up and down several times, making his the squeakiest, thump-iest fake death William had ever seen. "Right below us, like, right there! If we could look through our floor, we'd see…" But he trailed off as he and William glanced at their dirty gray carpet, looking somehow even more faded and old in the late afternoon sunlight. They each swallowed.

"I don't like the 1950's," William said.

"Me neither… I also don't like this paranoia demon…" Calder said. Silence fell briefly, and the buzzing worries started to return to both of them. "I think it's affecting me."

William nodded. "Me too. But I never realize it until after the fact. We need to get out of here…"

Calder nodded in agreement and glanced toward William's book. "Any luck?"

William shook his head and sighed, picking the book up. "I wish this thing had a search function."

" _I_ wish I had magical powers and I could just snap us back home," Calder said, snapping his fingers in demonstration. "And then I wouldn't _need_ a search function." He paused. "I also wouldn't need to go to school, or put the dishes away…and I could teleport anywhere I wanted…and have the best chefs cook all my meals…and be rich…"

"I wish the Angel we know was here," William said glumly, thumbing the next page over. " _Were_ here," he automatically corrected himself, as if his mother could hear him across 250 years. "He could tell us what to do."

"That's about as useful as me wishing for magic powers," Calder said. Silence fell for a few moments while William flipped through a few more pages without really reading them.

"We're never getting out of here, are we?" William said eventually. "We're going to grow old and die, staring at either this stupid book or that ugly paint job."

"I think we'll die before we get anywhere near old, if those are our only two options," Calder replied. They both fell into silence for a moment as they thought about the morbid turn their thoughts had taken.

"Don't listen to it," William mumbled. He idly flipped another page in the book.

There was a faint rumbling in the silence between them—each of the boys took it to be another ancient motor roaring outside, but they began to take notice of it when their beds started tremble in matching frequency. They looked at each other as the rumbling got louder, and they cried out loud as the earth gave a mighty lurch, tossing them off the beds, and then lurched again.

"Earthquake!" Calder cried, rather unnecessarily, but by the time they managed to push themselves up to a crawling position, the quake had stopped.

They looked at each other, panting heavily, hearts thudding in anticipation. "There could be aftershocks…" Calder said, again rather unnecessarily. "We should get under cover."

They stood cautiously and stumbled over to the dark bathroom doorway, sitting with their backs each against a frame and their knees touching as they pulled their bodies in as tightly as they could, which was only slightly easier for William, with the leaner build of the two.

"We _are_ supposed to find a doorframe, right?" William said after a minute of intense listening for more earth grumblings. "I mean, it's one of those things they always tell you, but you never expect to need to know it, so…"

"We could look it up if we had a signal," Calder muttered grumpily. "How did people find out stuff in this time? It takes _forever_ to do anything!"

William sighed. "Maybe we should go downstairs. See what everyone else is doing."

"It's California, earthquakes happen all the time here. I bet they'd laugh at us and keep talking about the suicide downstairs." Calder glanced at the floor again as if he could see through it. Then he frowned. "Will…I just realized… That guy was right next to Angel's room."

William shifted in his uncomfortable position. "So?"

Calder shrugged. "Probably nothing." He let his thoughts sort out before speaking again. "It's just kind of weird, isn't it? Angel just got his soul…he doesn't like people…he's kind of like an addict, isn't he? Do you think he ever…" Calder swallowed.

William narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying, Cal?"

"You know…" Calder said quietly, not looking at William. "It's convenient, is all… He had to have slipped at least once…"

"Angel would never do that," William said quietly but firmly.

"You don't know that," Calder replied. "He might have."

"No," William said, standing up. "He wouldn't. And if we can't trust him that much, we're never getting home."

Calder stood up, too. "Why not? He's not helping us now! Will, when are you going to—" But he jumped suddenly and stared with wide eyes at something in the dark bathroom. "What. The _bloody hell?_..." He backed away quickly.

"What?" William asked, also backing away even though he had no idea what they were running from.

"You didn't see it?"

"What?"

"A thing…or a thing's shadow… I don't know, but _something_ is in there."

"Like…what kind of something?"

"Like…the _Who-The-Hell-Cares_ kind and the _Let's-Get-The-Hell-Out-Of-Here-Before-It-Gets-Us_ kind and the _If-I-Had-A-Proper-Sword-I'd-Kill-The-Hell-Out-Of-It-Right-Now_ kind and every other kind I can think of that I can swear at because that's all I've got right now."

"Oh," William said meekly. " _That_ kind. I thought maybe it could be the Paranoia Demon kind."

"That, too. As in, The-Kind-That-Took-A-Lightning-Bolt-To-Kill kind. Where'd we put that dagger?"

"In the drawer."

Calder leaped for the dresser, found the dagger, and held it up in a striking position, motioning William toward the hall door with his head. William took a last look toward the bathroom. It might have been his frightened imagination, but he didn't think so: something definitely moved in there. He jumped and cried out loud, making Calder do the same, and they ran out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

William and Calder nearly crashed into Angel on their way to the front door. He had been going upstairs when they ran around the corner on their way down and stumbled to a halt just two steps above Angel. The girl who had been outside Angel's door the night before—Judy—stood just a step or two behind, nervously glancing around the lobby as though each pair of eyes were spotlights searching for her.

"Angel!" Calder cried before either of the adults' surprised expressions could turn into annoyance. He glanced quickly at Judy, lowered his voice, and said through heavy breaths, "Angel, there's something here! In the hotel!"

Angel turned back to Judy. "I'll see you later," he said.

She nodded with slight puzzlement and continued up to her room.

Angel turned back to the boys. "I know," he said.

"Oh good," William said, and then frowned. "How?"

"I heard it," Angel said. "Something's…whispering."

"We'll do you one better," Calder said. "We just saw it."

"Where?"

"In our room."

Angel glanced between the two of them. "Show me."

The boys turned instantly and led the way back to their room, which in their haste they hadn't even locked. They let Angel enter first.

"In the bathroom," William pointed, and Angel cautiously approached the doorway. He stared into the darkness for a few moments, then stepped forward and turned on the light.

He looked back at the boys. "It's gone," he said, and William and Calder relaxed.

"Where'd it go?" Calder wondered rhetorically as he made his way to the bathroom entrance and peered in.

Angel shrugged.

"You can track it, right?" William asked, looking over Calder's shoulder into the brightly-lit room, and hoping in a weird way that he hadn't just imagined what he saw.

Angel was silent for a moment, staring at the two boys.

William glanced up and caught Angel's stare. He shifted uncomfortably. "What?" he asked.

Calder turned, too.

Angel glanced briefly between them, and then said, "I should figure out what it is first."

"It's a paranoia demon," William said.

Angel frowned at him skeptically. "How…?"

"We're from the future," William said. "We told you. Just trust us: It's a paranoia demon."

"What kind?" Angel said slowly.

William and Calder looked at each other and they shrugged.

"There's more than one kind?" Calder asked.

Angel slowly started walking toward the door. "I need to figure out which kind it is," he said.

"We'll help," William offered.

Angel stopped and turned his head to glance at each of them again, and then turned to leave the room. The boys looked at each other, silently agreed that it wasn't a  _no_ , and followed after him.

* * *

"So what do we do now?" Judith asked, replacing the cream jar on the coffee table and swirling the caramel-colored tea in her cup with a spoon. She congratulated herself on how steady she'd kept her voice. She'd been wanting to ask this all evening but had held back to give Cordelia some space. Though she'd already given up hope that Cordelia had a complete solution—she would have said something by now if she had—Judith still held tightly onto the hope that Cordelia might have had at least a small breakthrough.

"Well," Cordelia said, and Judith noticed that Cordelia was uncharacteristically not meeting her eyes. "Honestly…I'm not sure."

Judith pursed her lips to hold back the bitter disappointment. "Hm," she said, and took a sip of tea to give Cordelia a chance to further explain what she meant—and herself a chance to remain calm.

"In missions like this, it usually it goes something like this," Cordy said. "I get a vision, I go to that dimension, pick up all the pieces I find, and I put them together in a nice big puzzle. Easy as pie on a Sunday afternoon. If the pieces don't fit, the Powers give me something to fill in the gaps. They  _did_  send me a vision this afternoon—"

Judith's head jerked up. "And you're just  _now_  telling me?"

Cordelia gave her a patient look. "They sent me a vision, but it makes absolutely  _no_ sense. I've been trying to figure it out, believe me, but I don't think they've  _ever_ sent me one this vague—including the one about the Ugly Grey Blobby Thing."

Judith frowned. "What was it? Today's vision, not the… Grey… Blobby… Whatever."

Cordy's gaze became distant as she tried to recall the vision. "Just lots of emotions and feelings—and some sound, but not much. It's like they only sent me half the vision; like they got some wires crossed in the transmission and the video didn't come through."

Judith only vaguely understood the metaphor, but she didn't really need to understand it. "And what do you make of it?"

Cordy took a sip of her tea. "Mostly…that the PTB are still on our side. They want us to find William and Calder just as much as we do. And that helps."

"In a sense," Judith agreed. "But that's not concrete enough for me. There must be  _something_  else we can do. We could go back to the Lauchley's to look for more clues, or use a… I don't know, a knowledge spell or  _something_. What other divining powers do you have?"

"That's it. I've used all the tools I have. I just have to go over everything I know until I figure it out." Cordy sighed and muttered quietly, "This would be so much easier if…"

Judith pressed her lips together even tighter and took a deep breath. "One would think that the Powers That Be would give their agents better tools to work with. If they're so powerful and all-knowing, why can't they just give you all the information and abilities you need? William and Calder could have been  _home_  by now."

Cordelia gave Judith a knowing smile. "Believe me, I've been there. And those are the same questions Angel's been asking since everything with Connor happened. But if I've learned anything over the past 500 years working with the Powers, it's that they  _do_  know more than we do, and if they're not telling us something, it's for a good reason. There are other forces to be reckoned with and other paths to be crossed before this is all over. Timing is  _everything_. It might just be that giving us a hard puzzle to figure out gives the other factors a chance to catch up."

"And what do I do in the meantime?" Judith asked. Cordelia glanced up. "You must understand that I cannot just sit here and wait. I can't even sit here and puzzle over the pieces, Cordelia, my  _son_ is  _missing_. What did Angel do when Connor went missing?"

Cordelia gave a slight nod of understanding. "Went crazy," she replied. "He used dark magic to find Connor that nearly killed us all."

"And do you understand," Judith said as evenly as she could. "That I am quite ready to do exactly the same thing? Give me the words, Cordelia, give me ritual, and I will do it."

"Yeah, I get it, Judith, I do. I'm working on—"

The bracelet on Judith's wrist buzzed and she jumped slightly, startling Cordelia, too. Judith held her palm up and double-tapped the bracelet. The message read,

_Los Angeles. 1952._

The sender was Angel.

"What?" Judith asked, showing Cordelia her palm. "What does he mean?"

Cordelia leaned forward to read it and then slowly straightened again, thinking. Judith could hardly stand the suspense.

"Cordelia?" Judith asked again.

"I don't know," Cordy replied, lost in thought. "Angel was there in the 1952; he had me research the Hyperion Hotel once, where he was living. But it can't still be there."

"Most likely not," Judith agreed.

They fell into a long, contemplative, and, for Judith, edgy silence. A slight anger burned in her gut that Angel hadn't given them more to go on—and had given it electronically rather than in person. Clearly, he thought they were supposed to understand the message as he gave it to them, but once again Judith found herself without any of the proper information to figure out what he meant.

But then again, he  _had_  sent the message to her, not Cordelia. Was the answer really as simple as "Los Angeles. 1952"?

Hesitantly, Judith spoke. "Cordelia… You don't suppose that William is… That they're… _in_  1952 Los Angeles. Do you?"

Cordy frowned. "They could be…" she conceded. "I mean, it's possible." Her face brightened slightly in realization. "Hey, the lackeys said that they hadn't opened a portal to another dimension, but they didn't say anything about another  _time_. Oh… _oh_ …" Cordelia held up a hand and Judith waited with a pounding heart for the pieces to finish clicking into place in Cordelia's mind.

Finally, Cordelia looked up at Judith and smiled. "They fell off their path," she said simply.

Judith wrinkled her brow. "What?"

"You know how some people—who shall remain Angel—tend to fall off their path metaphorically? I think that William and Calder fell off theirs  _literally_."

"Is that possible?"

"If it can be metaphorical, it can be literal."

Judith frowned in confusion. She was usually quite good at grasping abstract and philosophical topics, but this was crossing the line into the physical, which was a line that she had, until now, thought quite solid. "I don't understand. How do you  _physically_  fall off your  _metaphorical_  life path?"

"You don't," Cordelia replied. "Usually, you're pushed."

That didn't help Judith in the slightest. "By what?"

Cordelia gave Judith a significant look. "By some _one_  who really doesn't like where you're heading in life. Especially if you grow up to, oh I don't know, become a Champion and battle the forces of darkness… Perhaps defeat some great Big Bad that really doesn't want to be defeated, and who, say, might have been forewarned about the coming of said Champion. Prophecies happen."

Judith swallowed. "The person that hired the Three."

"Exactly."

Judith took a minute to organize her thoughts. "So they were pushed off their path and landed in 1952 Los Angeles? Why there? Why then?"

Cordelia shifted in her seat as she thought about how to explain it. "Think of it this way," she said finally. "When you're pushed and you lose your balance, you grab onto something to try and stop the fall, right? Something prominent, something strong, something you know will never fail you or let you go… Judith, what is the one thing that 1952 L.A. and 2214 Galway have in common?"

Judith nodded. "Angel. They reached out for Angel."

"Who wouldn't?" Cordy said.

"And would the Angel of 1952 help them? That wasn't long, relatively speaking, after he was cursed."

Cordelia was quiet for a moment. "I didn't know Angel back then, but he kind of had a mopey, emo, I-hate-the-world-'cause-the-world-hates-me attitude, so I'm guessing…no."

"Well, then," Judith said, " _we_  need to go help them."

"We do," Cordy agreed. "But we also need more info."

"Like what?"

"Like confirmation. This whole being-pushed-off-their-paths thing is still in theory stage, and time travel is  _hugely_  restricted; we're hardly even allowed to wistfully daydream about it without damn good reason. Angel's message didn't even say ' _They're in_  1952 Los Angeles,' so his practically marital commitment to vagueness means that we have to do some extra digging and, unfortunately for him, it means that the digging has to be done around him." Cordy stood up. "Let's go."

"To Angel's?" Judith asked, standing also.

"Of course," Cordy replied. "He can't expect to give us information without an explanation behind it; not with all this PTB-hating, moral-dilemma, no-one-can-know-I-care crap he's given us." She yanked open the apartment door a little harder than she meant to, Judith following closely behind. "He's not  _that_  stupid."

* * *

Angel sat, as usual, in the dark. The dark helped him slip into denial much more effectively than light, and denial was the last thing he had to hold onto. The deepest part of him knew that pressing  _send_  would not be the end of it; that in less than an hour Cordelia and Judith would be standing in front of him, demanding answers.

But luckily, the deepest part was often the easiest to ignore, and Angel contented himself with thinking that he'd given them plenty to go on, and they would be researching ways to pull someone out of the past at that very moment, too busy to give a thought to how he knew where William and Calder were. It would be best that way. He had only partially broken his vow against the Powers. If it were possible to send the message anonymously, he would have done it, and kept himself even farther from crossing the line of working on their side.

The pounding on the door and Cordelia's insistent voice that he open it were therefore not  _entirely_  unexpected, even if it did startle him. He ignored it, knowing that she would come in on her own and wondering why he hadn't thought to lock the door. It opened, and the lights flooded on. Angel shut his eyes against it and two sets of feet marched with equal fervor across the hardwood floor to position themselves intimidatingly in front of him. Why did they  _both_  have to come?

He cracked his eyes open at their towering figures. Cordelia held up her hand, which was somehow smeared with his blood. Had he remembered to wipe off the doorknob? Not that he really cared at that moment, but the neighbors would start to wonder eventually… He opened his eyes a bit wider as they got used to the light.

"You wanna answer some questions, Angel?" Cordy said. Of course he didn't, but it wasn't like he could say so. "Starting with whose blood is on the doorknob and why it's there, and ending with a full explanation of the message you sent us. Complete sentences are required."

"I would say the other way around," Judith interrupted. "Being as I really don't care whose blood is on the doorknob. Do you know where my son is?"

Angel glanced at her. "Yes," he replied. "And now you do, too." He stood up, partly to close the door block any curious ears, and partly to regain some semblance of power in the group. He used his knuckles to push the door shut, as he'd not bothered to pull the glass out of his palms, rather liking the distraction of physical pain.

"How do you know?" Judith pressed, following him to the door. "How are you sure?"

"I just am," Angel replied. "It's probably best if we just leave it at that."

"Wrong," Cordy said, flanking Judith and cornering Angel against the wall. "Try again."

Angel glanced between the two of them, the silence dragging. There was a brief unspoken battle of wills, which Angel quickly realized he was not going to win. He sighed and finally said, "I had a vision."

Cordelia's jaw dropped slightly, but Judith's frown only deepened.

"You get visions?" Judith asked in a tone that was a little more seething and incensed than Angel thought the situation warranted.

"I used to," Angel said. "I thought the Powers took them away after… After I wouldn't save the people I saw in them anymore."

"Apparently not," Judith said coldly.

"No," Angel agreed. "Apparently not."

"What did you see?" Cordy asked.

Angel swallowed. "The Hyperion, William and Calder, me. Mid-twentieth century cars." He shrugged. "They're in 1952—Los Angeles. I don't know why, I don't know how."

Judith scrutinized him. "You're sure it's 1952?" she asked.

"Positive," he replied. "It was a memorable year."

There was a brief pause. "And the blood?" Cordy asked, holding up her palm again.

Angel looked at his own torn palms, and Cordy and Judith gasped. "Fell on some glass when the vision hit," he said.

"And you just  _forgot_  to take the glass out?" Cordy said, tentatively drawing one of his hands closer with a slight touch of her fingertips so that she could look at it more carefully. After a moment's glance, she seemed to realize that there were other things she needed to focus on, and suddenly let his hand go.

"So how are we getting my son back?" Judith asked.

Cordelia looked over at her. "We go back in time," she said.

"There aren't any spells to do that," Angel said. "You can change memories, create alternate realities, but there are only a few beings that have the ability to bend time."

"And I'm one of them," Cordy said.

Angel stared at her.

"Not that I've ever done it before, but I've been on board with the PTB long enough to earn certain privileges. It's like their idea of a pay raise." She rolled her eyes slightly at the thought.

"And you can just…jump back in time?" Angel said, a small fist of excitement gripping his stomach. "Whenever you want?"

Cordelia narrowed her eyes at him. "Privilege," she repeated slowly, an edge of finality in her voice. "As in: for business, not pleasure." The fist let go reluctantly.

"Then let's go," Judith said, turning to Cordelia to follow her lead. But Cordelia stayed where she was, still looking at Angel.

"I'm going to give you one more chance," she said, her voice beginning to harden again. "You don't deserve it, but—God only knows why—I'm giving it to you anyway. Are you coming with us?"

Angel hesitated, a little too long. He could feel their combined anger build against him again, feeding on each other. "There are things you don't understand," he said.

"So make us," Cordy replied with an eerie quiet.

Angel swallowed; his fists clenched around the glass shards and they cut satisfyingly deeper into his palm. "It's too painful," he said simply.

"And we couldn't possibly understand pain," Cordelia said, her voice trembling with effort to keep control.

"Not like this," Angel replied.

" _Hello!_ " Cordelia cried. "I died because I gave birth to a  _fully grown woman_. I went temporarily  _insane_  because Wolfram and Hart sent a demon to give me never-ending visions that made me feel the pain of countless victims over and  _over_  again! I have been impaled, had my heart broken— _multiple_  times—and I watched Doyle die in front of my own eyes, completely  _powerless_  to stop it. Don't you  _dare_  pull the King of Pain card on me now! What the hell kind of vengeance did you swear on the PTB, Angel? 'Cause even  _I_  can't hold a cold shoulder for 200 years!"

"I told you already!" Angel snapped, and glanced at Judith, who was directing such a cold stare at him that it briefly threw him off some of his anger. "I told both of you," he said.

"Oh don't you give me that, Mister!" Cordy said, and Angel turned back to her, heat rising again. "I know when something else is going on, and—"

"Connor." Judith interrupted suddenly, icily. The room fell dead silent. Angel stared at her in shock; a boulder landed in his gut, and he found that he was unable to look away from her frozen gaze; her stormy blue-grey eyes sparkling like lightning. He was trapped there, and suddenly, he felt a little bit terrified.

"It's always about our children, isn't it Angel?" Judith said with a calm so forced her voice shook to keep it down. A lump rose in Angel's throat and he couldn't swallow it away. "We do what we must to protect them, no matter how irrational or who else gets hurt in the process. I know that. So Angel…put yourself in my shoes for just a minute. Ask yourself: right now, is your son's need greater than my son's?"

Judith took several steps forward. "If it is," she continued, "then I understand. I really do." The gaze softened briefly enough to let Angel glance at the floor.

"But  _when_  I get my son back," the ice in her voice returned instantly and Angel felt forced to look at her again, "I can't be sure I'd trust you to see him anymore."

Angel did not move for several seconds; then he nodded once in understanding. He paused, and glared accusingly at Cordelia.

"Hey," she said, raising her hands, "Connor came up in  _normal_  conversation. You can't blame me for doing something you should have done years ago."

"How much did you tell her?" he asked quietly.

"The basics. I think I narrowed everything I knew down to five sentences. Maybe six. I was pretty impressed with myself."

Angel was, too, but he didn't say it. He swallowed and looked at the floor. He felt oddly empty, even though his mind was so full his head hurt. He listened to the argument again in his thoughts, and at last, he made a decision. He spoke, "Then I have something to tell you. Both of you. But it's kind of a long story; you might want to sit down."

Nobody moved for several seconds; eventually Cordy turned and sat down slowly on the couch, staring at him with the look of a stern judge that said that his story better be worth it. Judith remained standing rigidly in front of Angel.

"William is fine for now," Angel said. "They're not in much danger." Yet.

Judith blinked once, then reluctantly sat down on an armchair, her back still stiff and jaw still set with anger.

"The story takes place over a year after Cordy died," Angel began. "I was angry at the Powers for everything that happened already. But that's not what made me turn against them." Silence fell as Angel tried to decide how to start his story.

"What did?" Cordy finally prompted, her voice still hard.

Angel looked at her. "They tried to kill Connor," he said, then pulled in a breath and looked at Judith. "And then they did something a whole lot worse."


	11. Chapter 11

**Los Angeles, 2006**

Angel slid with unconscious ease from shadow to shadow on a late muggy summer's night, a paper bag from the butcher in one hand and a cell phone in the other. He had only two contacts in his speed dial and he almost never used the one he was dialing now, but he felt that tonight's reason was good enough to warrant a quick call.

"Hey, Connor," Angel said after the voicemail beeped.

"Hey, Dad," Connor said, stepping out of a side alley just ahead of Angel.

Angel stopped, trying not to look too surprised at Connor's sudden appearance, and snapped his phone shut. "You didn't answer your phone," he said, and resumed his course.

"Left it at home," Connor shrugged, falling into step beside Angel. "What's up?"

"New vampire nest about a block that way," Angel replied, nodding his head behind them. "Thought you might be interested in taking it out."

"You mean you want me to take it out for you." Connor said.

Angel said nothing at first, then he shrugged. "Well, it's a bit of a territorial thing," he admitted, ignoring Connor's rolling eyes. "But mostly I thought you'd want to know.

Might be good practice for some of the kids in your group."

"Yeah," Connor agreed. "Probably. Thanks."

"Sure."

A familiar silence fell, and the two listened to the sounds of their footsteps until one of them couldn't take it anymore. "So how've you been?" Angel finally asked.

Connor shrugged again. "Pretty good. Slaying monsters, helping rebuild Los Angeles. It's fulfilling, doing good. You should try it sometime."

"I did," Angel replied. "You're right: it is fulfilling."

"What changed?"

Angel's foot hit a Sprite can and it clattered away from them. "We've talked about this before Connor."

"Yeah, yeah," Connor said. "The Powers That Be changed everything. I remember." He flicked a mosquito away from the spot on his arm where it had just bitten him. "It's kind of nice, though, having a sense of purpose. I'm not sure how you live without it."

"You're my purpose, Connor."

"How touching. Tell that to the people you're _not_ saving. 'Sorry, my son, who's perfectly capable of protecting himself, needs me for…I don't know…tips about vampire nests.' Think it'll fly?"

Angel glared quietly at him, but didn't respond. They came to the point where their paths home split and stopped.

"Well," Connor said. "I'm going to go kill things. We'll take out the vamp nest later this week."

"Be careful." Angel said.

Connor rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. "See you around, Dad."

"See you, Connor," Angel said, watching his son slip away into the shadows.

Angel woke to the beep of his phone just a few hours before dawn. Nina stirred beside him. He rolled over and groggily answered the phone without looking at the caller. There was a din of noise on the other end: shouting, groaning, roaring… Connor yelling out instructions. Angel's insides twisted and he sat bolt upright.

"Mm?" Nina opened one eye blearily.

"Help us!" a young, Hispanic-accented voice said into the phone before it went dead.

Angel threw the phone aside and stood up, stumbling to find his clothes in the dark.

"What's wrong?" Nina mumbled, pulling the covers up over her shoulders.

"I don't know," Angel replied, his stomach weighted in cold and nauseating lead. He gave up on the top three buttons of his shirt, knowing that his now-thick and clumsy fingers would find their grace and strength in the hilt of his sword as he drove it through whatever, or whoever, was threatening Connor. "I'll be back later." He left the apartment.

The world blurred by Angel and before he realized it, Angel found himself inside Connor's condemned apartment building, rushing up the stairs toward the growls, grunts, thuds, and yells of pain and panic.

The doors of the rooms next to Connor's, occupied by the kids he'd taken under his wing, were already wide open and abandoned. Blood trailed on the carpet under Angel's feet and splattered in claw shapes on the already-stained walls. Connor's door was broken and unhinged, just like the mess Angel found inside.

He ignored the few kids that had been brave and dumb enough to stay and fight who reached and called for his help on the floor-one with Connor's crushed cell phone by his hand-just a few minutes from bleeding to death, and rushed into the second, smaller room in the place.

Angel couldn't really remember what happened just then. He saw his son, broken and bleeding on the floor and a dark shape just slightly larger than Angel with gleaming green eyes, looming over him, talon-like fingers arched. And then, its head was on the floor, red drowning the room as Angel's sword clanged against the wall. And then…Connor was cradled in his arms, breathing in air and exhaling death rattles.

That was all Angel could remember.

* * *

It took Connor a while to heal—even with his extra-fast healing ability. Angel went to see him a week after the incident for the first time…officially. He had been at the hospital every day that Connor was unconscious, and stopped by his building every night after he was discharged. Connor had always been asleep, and the one time he wasn't asleep, Connor was unwilling to see Angel. Angel couldn't blame him: the first time _he'd_ been beaten so badly he didn't really want to see anyone, either. But Angel knew that wasn't nearly the whole reason.

The apartment halls were unusually quiet as he stalked through; some of the rooms that stood empty and dark should have been occupied. Several of the kids had been killed in the attack, and the silence that his footsteps hardly broke was of death, fear, and seclusion.

He knocked softly on Connor's door. A young Mexican boy—maybe 14 or so—opened it.

" _Es Connor aqui?"_ Angel asked.

The boy hesitated and glanced back in the room.

"Let him in…" Connor's voice said wearily from inside.

Angel stepped past the boy and into the room. They had cleaned up the blood of the dead kids, but not the rest of it yet. Connor sat on the edge of a broken couch, bent over a heavy book in his lap, trying to read it through one black eye and one blue eye. How he managed to turn the pages with such trembling fingers was beyond Angel. Connor nodded to the boy to leave.

"What do you want?" Connor said after a minute.

"Aren't I allowed to see my own son after his near-death experience?"

"Sure," Connor replied. "But you come see me every night, so… Dunno what the big difference is if I'm conscious or unconscious."

Angel glanced at the floor. "I guess seeing isn't enough," he said.

Connor shrugged. "I'm fine," he said. "I should be completely healed in a few days. Just enough for me to figure out what that thing was so next time I…" Connor swallowed.

Angel stood silent, letting Connor be the one to break it.

"I know why they have Watchers now," Connor finally said. "To teach the Slayers about the demons they face so they know who to keep out of the fight." His eyes darted to a bleached spot in the corner of the room.

"It's not your fault, Connor," Angel said.

"Sure it is," Connor replied with a snort. "They were under my command, I trained them, taught them how to be brave, told them they could fight anything with enough practice. I forgot…human strength really is a weakness. I thought it could be overcome."

Angel glanced around the room until he found a wooden chair. Then he picked it up and set it in front of Connor, sitting cautiously on it before he spoke.

"It can be overcome," Angel replied. "But it takes a lot more time and experience than kids this young could hope to have. You're doing a good thing here, Connor. There's a lot of work left to do in this city, and it can't be done without the kind of initiative you've had in taking them in. But you had to know that they wouldn't all make it. In the history of this whole planet, there has never been a captain in a war that brought all his soldiers safely home."

Connor gazed at his book while he thought. "I think I finally get it," Connor said, a hint of revelation in his tone.

"Get what?"

"Why you quit the fight. You couldn't stand leading your friends through something you knew they wouldn't survive."

Angel frowned and glanced at his hands. "That's partly it."

"What's the other part?"

"We've been over this, Connor."

"No," Connor raised his voice and looked up. "You came here trying convince me to keep up the good fight, when you yourself quit because all of _your_ friends died. Way to be a hypocrite, Dad. Not that you're good at _not_ being one."

"I quit to protect _you_ , Connor," Angel said evenly, meeting Connor's eyes. "If we're both in the game, we become liable to each other. Your entire life story is proof of that. Think about it."

Connor shrugged, sniffed, and leaned back, his arms crossed. He thought about it. "And you decided to be the one to step down, as the old, cynical one?"

"Well…yeah," Angel admitted.

Connor was quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry to keep you away," he said eventually, "from all the people who needed you."

Angel shrugged. "They have you now," he replied.

"Yeah…" Connor agreed.

Angel glanced over at his son. "You're a good Champion, Connor. The people are better off with you than with me."

Silence fell again for a time. Finally, Connor straightened up and looked down at his book again, actually skimming the words this time. "I know," he said. "I just wanted to hear you admit it."

"So…" Angel said. "You weren't thinking of quitting, after what happened?"

"Not for a second. Oh, don't get me wrong, I still feel guilty as hell for the kids that got killed, but now I know more than ever that I need to do this. You may not believe this," Connor said, glancing up, "but I learn from your mistakes."

Angel swallowed and, after a minute, stood up. "Good," he said. "That's good." He turned to go.

"I didn't lie," Connor said, and Angel turned around again. "I do get it, kind of."

Connor turned back to his book. Angel nodded once and headed for the door. He paused in the doorway.

"I love you, Connor," Angel said quietly.

"Yeah," Connor muttered. "You too, I guess."

Angel swallowed and left as stoically as he could, though as he made his way back down the hall, a tear slid down his cheek.

* * *

Life was a little better after that. Connor healed, and he was a little less confrontational in their few interactions following. It was enough to put a slight spring in Angel's step—something that Nina announced more than once unnerved her. Later, he supposed he should have seen the gathering cloud following him, waiting to strike down the next thing that might make him too happy.

It happened one night, when Angel and Nina were making a late dinner. She had been chatting about something—probably the movie they'd just seen—and Angel had just stood up to open the microwave door.

The vision hit like a lightning bolt. He cried out and fell to the floor. He was only barely aware of Nina's sudden warm hands on him a few seconds later, frantically trying to calm him like he had always tried to calm Cordy.

He saw Connor. And blood. Connor's blood, everywhere. He saw strange people. A woman, chanting. A warrior with dark red skin. He heard clangs of metal, deafening his ears, and he heard thuds of flesh and bone. He felt each blow on his body. He saw symbols and fire-charred walls. Then he saw Connor fall…

"CONNOR!" The kitchen returned. He was on the floor, head cradled in Nina's lap, her heart pounding enough for the both of them. Angel jumped up.

"Angel, what was it?" Nina cried. "What's happening with Connor?"

"I have to go," Angel said, turning around on the spot, trying to reorient himself.

"But you don't answer visions, Angel," Nina protested, following him into the living room.

"I do when they're about my _son_."

"Isn't he the _reason_ you don't answer them, though? What if—"

"I have to go," Angel said again with a tone of finality. And he left, pausing only long enough to grab his sword from under the couch and jacket from the closet, unintentionally slamming the door behind him.

Connor was already in battle with the warrior when Angel arrived at the dark, half-burned, former office building that had been in his vision. This beast was larger than one that found Connor at his own apartment, with a hard, reddish, leather-like hide. Angel wasted no time trying to ram the sword into its head, but he only broke the blade against the steel-like skull in an ear-splitting crash of metal. Cursing under his breath, Angel tossed the hilt aside and threw himself at the beast as hard as he could, his fury giving him more power than he'd felt in a long time.

"Dad," Connor said, ducking a blow. "Someone's upstairs. I don't know what…" he delivered a punch to the warrior's neck, too distracted to finish the sentence.

Angel glanced upwards and ducked a blow. If he listened over the thuds he could just a woman muttering something somewhere above them. He didn't know what she was doing, either, but it hadn't felt good in his vision.

"You go, I've got him," Angel said, landing a kick in the creature's gut. Connor hesitated. "Go!" Angel insisted, and Connor dashed off.

"You and me," Angel said, dancing out of the warrior's way. "We've got some issues to work through." He slammed his fist into the side of the beast's head. "Like the fact that you're trying to kill my son." He threw a kick into the back of its knee, sending it crashing to the floor. "That's just not a good way to start a friendship."

"You have no idea," the beast gasped. "What that boy is capable of."

"Oh, I think I do," Angel said, aiming a kick at its ear. Connor's footsteps thundered above them, trying to find the voice. What was he doing, running back and forth like that? She was right above them.

"If you did," the thing dodged and rolled over, a slight scrape of metal indicated that he had picked up a piece of broken sword, "you would know why they sent us to do this."

The beast reached up, blade in hand, and shoved it through Angel's heart like it was through soft butter. Gasping, Angel fell to his knees. The warrior chuckled.

"You'll be glad that I killed you, too," it said. Then it slid the blade out of Angel's chest and turned to find Connor.

The hilt of sword lay just a few feet away. The adrenaline of rage soothed the pain in his body and Angel picked up the heavy metal handle with a clarity he had rarely felt before. Angel glared menacingly at the figure's retreating back.

Angel caught up with it at the top of the stairs. He grasped its head and thrust the blade into the side of its throat as silently as a cat. "And _you_ should be glad I killed you this quickly," Angel whispered in its shocked and dying ear. The creature's legs buckled under itself and Angel stepped aside as it fell backwards, thudding down into the darkness.

"Connor?" Angel yelled.

"Dad," Connor appeared in the dim light in front of him, out of breath. "There's something going on. I can't—"

A sudden flash of white light shot out from a door down the hallway. Connor and Angel looked at each other.

"Try together?" Connor asked with a tone that suggested exhaustion. Angel let just the edge of his mouth smile, and nodded. Together they made their way to the door, paused, and on a silent three, kicked it down flat.

"That's weird," Connor said, and they both crossed over the threshold with less caution than they should have. Something came flying out of the corner of the room and smashed into Connor's head. He fell to the ground just as two sets of eerily strong arms wrapped themselves around Angel and a third threw chains around his feet. Angel struggled with all his might, but could not break free.

A figure materialized in front of Angel, thin and hooded, holding a brass vial.

"Hm," its feminine voice said as if examining produce at the grocery store. "I wasn't expecting delivery of the source. But this will do." She held the vial up to Angel's heart, where the wound was still bleeding.

"Now, now," she said with a condescending _tsk_ as Angel tried his best to thwart her. She held the vial steady to the spot as though she anticipated each twist. "Let's not be difficult." She turned away with the vial brimming, and Angel noticed another figure stand up from Connor's head wound with a similarly full vial. Connor's heart was still beating. Angel struggled harder.

The figures added the vials of blood to a golden bowl of other ingredients and began chanting over it in some language that Angel couldn't identify. He took a breath to pull his strength together, and threw his weight into one of the captors as violently as he could. The figure struggled to regain a sufficient grip on Angel, and its arm slipped up by Angel's mouth. Angel smiled to himself and bit down with his fangs as hard as he could. The figure—by the scent, it was human, male, mid-thirties, with black hair and blue eyes, and by the taste...it was flooded with magic—screamed in pain, nearly deafening to Angel's ears. It was enough; Angel slipped out of their grasp, ducked to yank the chains off his ankles, and wheeled to face them.

They were skilled fighters—magically so. Angel could think of nothing but defeating them; the women at the bowl slipped all thoughts. That is, until the room filled with light.

The figures that Angel was fighting disappeared. Angel turned, and the women disappeared, too, as though they were frighteningly eager to leave. Angel rushed over to Connor and picked him up as carefully as he could. The light in the room was gathering into Connor, and all Angel knew was that they had to get out of there.

He swung out of the room. The light followed and grew in strength inside Connor. The hallway was completely lit up. Obscene graffiti flashed on the office-white walls. They were at the stairs; Angel had to squint on the way down because the light was so bright. His shoes slid in the blood of the dead demon, dripping like a creek down the stairs from where the body had gotten stuck halfway down.

When Angel's foot hit the last step, the light disappeared. When Angel's foot hit the ground, it burst out of Connor and into Angel. Angel flew backwards into the stairs and Connor fell to the ground, and blackness overcame Angel.


	12. Chapter 12

_This time, it took several months for Connor to heal. While he was in the hospital, I went back to the building to try to find clues about what that spell was and researched the symbols I saw in my vision. I never found anything conclusive, but what I did find wasn't good._

_I kept constant tabs on Connor. After he was released from the hospital, I watched him get back into shape, slowly start fighting again. But it was all…wrong. He bruised his hands if he hit too hard, which wasn't nearly as hard as he used to hit. He'd lose his balance, he forgot how to flip, he'd pull muscles…_

_One night, after Connor had been out of the hospital for a few weeks, he came to me, limping. He had tried to jump off a two-story building into a filled dumpster and broken his ankle. He asked me to help him figure out what was wrong. I didn't know what else to do, so I took him to the only two places I knew to find a direct link with the Powers That Be. The conduit wouldn't let either of us in, since we were coming under "old titles," but the Oracles did. Oracle, actually. Only one wanted to take the place of the siblings…_

Connor and Angel stepped through the blinding white light and waited a few seconds for their eyes to adjust.

"What have you brought me?" the oracle demanded.

Angel cursed silently—he'd forgotten about that.

"This," Connor said, pulling a long dagger out from his boot. He turned it around and offered it respectfully handle-first to the blue and gold being with a surreptitious glare in Angel's direction.

The oracle took the blade and inspected it. "It has served you well," he observed. "Service to others is the highest form of giving. I accept." The oracle gave a slight bow, and the dagger shimmered out of sight. "I know what information you have come for," the oracle said. "And I wish that you keep the Earth-adage about the messenger in mind during our conversation."

Angel frowned; a heavy, ominous cloud formed around them.

"Why?" Connor asked. "What are you going to tell us?"

"Only what you ask," the oracle replied. "Nothing more and likely less."

"What happened to Connor?" Angel asked.

"Many things," the oracle replied. "You will need to be more specific."

Angel rolled his eyes in frustration while Connor asked, "What's wrong with me? Why can't I fight like I used to? Why do I get hurt so fast?"

"Your powers of strength and healing are gone," the oracle replied. "They have been returned to the source you inherited them from."

Connor and Angel glanced at each other in shock. Then anger began boiling at a depth that Angel didn't even know existed.

"Why?" Angel demanded.

"The Powers That Be do not need two Champions for Evil in this region. When their Champion for Good failed to kill the boy, the Powers That Be decided to decommission him instead. You are fortunate," the oracle turned to Connor. "Now you may still live a normal life, if you choose. It won't amount to much, now that you no longer have a destiny, of course… But most people's lives don't amount to much anyway, so at least you won't be alone, right?"

"Wait, what 'Champion of Evil?'" Angel asked, not bothering to keep the threatening tone in check.

"Yeah, are the Powers blind?" Connor said, and Angel could feel the heat of his fury. "I've been working nonstop for the good side for months!"

"The Powers That Be see more than you do. They looked into your future and saw what you will become."

"Connor is _not_ a force of evil," Angel seethed.

"Not yet," the oracle agreed.

"But you didn't even give me a chance!" Connor yelled. "You could have warned me or someth—"

"Easier than changing destinies is taking them away," the oracle replied. "It is better this way. One does not have to be a Champion of the Body to be a Champion of the Heart. There are other ways to be align with the forces of good, if you wish. Hold on, I think I have a _Changing Your Career Track_ pamphlet here somewhere…"

With a snarl of fury, Angel lunged forward, grabbed the oracle's neck and pushed him against the marble wall, its head slamming against it with a sickening _crack_. "Tell me how to reverse it," Angel growled through sharp teeth.

"It cannot be done," the oracle gasped, and Angel tightened his hold on the blue neck. "Do you think the Powers have not foreseen this also? It is finished."

"It's _not_ done," Angel said.

The oracle grasped desperately at Angel's cold fingers and said in between ragged breaths, "Killing me will not help."

"Maybe not," Angel said, "but it'll make me feel a little better." He gripped the oracle's head, snapped its neck, and threw the body to the ground at his feet, the dead bones cracking against the marble floor.

* * *

The flat rang in heavy silence. Judith sat with folded hands and a bowed head as though in deep prayer. Cordelia's gaze was somewhere not in this world, though her eyes looked at the floor. Her arms were crossed protectively in front of her; Angel stood several feet away, hands still slowly dripping blood.

"Their betrayal was absolute," he said finally. "Not only did they take away everything Connor had-his purpose, his _destiny_ …they used me to do it." He swallowed. "They made me think Connor was in danger, made me think they were helping us, at last. But it was just to get me to go there and bleed willingly so their spell would work." He paused again. "The people in that building were all Champions of Good. Every one of us."

Cordelia shifted on the couch and rubbed her face in her hands.

"It might have just been me," Angel continued, "but ever since then I've felt just a little bit stronger… And I think I heal just a little faster." He flexed one hand in front of him, noting that the shallowest cuts were nearly gone. He might have to reopen a few if they had healed over glass.

"After that I turned completely against the Powers That Be for good, and vowed that Connor was the only one I would ever live, work, or die for, ever."

Cordelia took in a long breath, but he did not look at her.

"The Powers tried to prove me wrong. After several years they sent me visions of the people who needed the most help, made me feel the pain as they were tortured, killed, and raped. But there's no way I could have…it didn't compare to the kind of pain they already put me through; the pain they put Connor through. He went down a dark path for a long time… And then he started aging, like a mortal but-I don't know-longer. I guess they let him keep whatever immortal tendencies he got from Darla and me. A few decades ago his memories started going away. It's almost a good thing, actually. He's happy again. Or maybe…for the first time."

Silence fell again, except for a stifled sniff from Judith. Angel stared at her for a moment.

"Is your answer still the same?" he asked after a minute. She looked up and her mouth twitched. "Would you still have chosen Evie?"

She took a deep, shaky breath and stared at him, her expression incomprehensible. "I don't know," she replied. Angel nodded.

"But…" she continued. "I understand. And I am no longer angry with you."

Angel didn't reply—he wasn't sure he could—but he gave a nod of grateful acknowledgement.

"And now you owe me an answer to my other question," Judith said slowly. She stood up to face him at eye level. "Is Connor's need right now more important than William's? Is your choice still the same?"

Angel did not answer right away. He glanced over at Cordelia, who had yet to stir from her thoughts. Feeling his eyes on her, Cordy looked up.

"Why couldn't you have told us?" she asked quietly, trying to speak through a swollen throat.

"I should have…" Angel said, realizing only now how true it was. "I've never told anyone before. But you're right."

"Duh," she said. "A whole lot of crap could have been avoided."

"Oh, but we're so good at avoiding things," Angel replied.

Cordy stared at him. "Point taken," she said. "But no more avoiding, Angel." She stood up, blinking back the unshed tears. "Judith is right: We need to get time-jumping here, and you're out of time on your decision. So are you coming with…?" She crossed her arms. "Or not?"

* * *

The short walk back to Denver's store with 1950's Angel was nothing short of awkward.

Angel was unusually silent; not in his normal pensive way, but in a closed-off, mad-at-the-world kind of way. And that did not lead to many interesting discussion topics—or any discussion topics at all. The boys, instead, tried to focus on the relief of being out of the hotel and out from under the paranoia demon's influences; but the fact of the matter was that they still didn't know how to get home, and though helping Angel kill the hotel's resident monster was satisfying, it hardly helped their cause.

"So…" Calder eventually said as they drew nearer to Denver's shop, evidently unable to stand the silence any longer. "Who helps you fight demons these days?"

Angel glanced at him in confusion.

"You know…" Calder said. "Who patrols the streets with you? Who are your friends?"

Angel looked forward again. "I don't have any friends."

"You made friends with that lady…" William pointed out.

Angel thought for a moment. "Judy? I guess so… I don't know how that happened…"

They arrived at Denver's door and Angel went straight in, but something occurred to William and he held Calder back, pulling him away from the door.

"What?" Calder asked, slightly irritated at the sudden change in direction.

"I think," William said slowly, working through a slew of new thoughts that had just occurred to him, "that we need to start being a lot more careful about what we say to him."

"Why?"

William swallowed. "Because I think… I think this is the beginning for him. The beginning of his path to redemption. No, listen," he said as Calder tried to interrupt. "He once told us it took a while for him to accept his position after he got his soul: I don't think the idea of being a Champion has occurred to him yet. This is where it all starts. With this paranoia demon. With Judy. She's the one who starts to break the shell around him. We need to mess with this as little as poss—"

"Coward of the night!"

William and Calder jumped as Denver ran out onto the sidewalk several yards down, yelling at seemingly no one.

"And tell your buddies: I am thinking very seriously about putting my bedroll down right here!"

William and Calder glanced curiously at each other.

"You bastards just can't walk in here uninvited! You got _any idea who you're dealing with?!_ "

Angel suddenly grabbed Denver by the neck from behind, vampire-face fully out. William and Calder leaped to attention and hurried over as Angel spoke harshly in Denver's ear,

"You got a reputation, that's why I'm here. Now it's been a long time since I opened a vein but I'll do it, you pull any more of that Van Helsing Jr. crap with me. Are we clear? I want the books in the back." And he shoved Denver roughly back into his store.

"Angel?" William asked cautiously.

Angel looked at him. "I'm good."

The boys glanced at each other and followed Angel in…just in case.

William and Calder stood off to the side together near the psychology section of the bookshop, watching Angel out of the corners of their eyes while trying to stay focused on the conversation between them.

"I want to help, too, Cal, but I'm just saying… The more I think about it, the more I'm afraid we're seriously messing with Angel's timeline!"

"You were the one so set on getting him to help us," Calder replied incredulously.

"Him helping us is different than us helping him. This is really important, Cal! This is Angel's _first time_ helping humans since he was a human himself. He might _have_ to do this on his own."

Calder sighed resignedly and looked back over at Angel, who was still talking with Denver. "We can't know, Will. We can't know anything anymore. I say: we make sure that paranoia demon—"

"Thessulac," William corrected, now that they knew its proper species.

"Whatever. I say we make sure it's good and dead before we go. This thing has to end here in 1952. We know that much, from what Angel's told us. Everything else…we can't worry about it."

William nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in the same way his mother's did when she was worried. "I guess," he conceded slowly. Having no other reply for the moment, he turned his attention back to Angel and Denver.

"A vampire wanting to slay a demon in order to help some grubby humans?" Denver was saying. He shook his head. "I just don't get it."

"To be honest? I'm not sure I do, either." Angel grabbed a paper bag off of the book cart and glanced at the boys with a slight nod. He swiftly left, Calder and William following closely behind.

They had hardly passed the next store front when Angel stopped walking so suddenly that the boys nearly ran into him.

"What?" Calder asked, but Angel did not reply. He stood tense, as if waiting for something. Seconds later, the earth rumbled, and all three of them braced themselves for the quake. The ground slid under them just long enough to throw them somewhat off balance before it stopped again.

"I thought earthquakes lasted longer than this," William said uneasily after a moment.

Angel gripped the axe handle in his hand. "These aren't normal earthquakes," he said quietly, and then started walking again. The boys followed.

"What do you mean?" William asked. "What are normal earthquakes like?"

"They're bigger. Look at the people around us."

William and Calder looked at the other pedestrians near them. They seemed nervous and harried, as if also waiting for another aftershock, and trying to get to their destination before it hit. The cars that had pulled over were just starting to cautiously move again.

"Now look down there," Angel said as they came up to a crosswalk and stopped.

Again, William and Calder looked. Just one street down, it looked like nothing had ever happened. Traffic was moving along at its normal pace and people were walking and chatting with relaxed, oblivious ease.

"They didn't feel it…" Calder said slowly.

Angel bent down to open a sewer cover.

"Why didn't they feel it?" Calder asked, bending over the hole that Angel was quickly disappearing through.

"I don't know," Angel said, his voice echoing. He waited until both boys had also descended into the sewer and the cover was securely in place again. "But I'm going to take a guess and say it has something to do with you two."

The boys glanced at each other nervously as they followed Angel, who was quickly moving off again.

"How?" William asked, but Angel only shrugged.

Silence fell for a few moments, though they could still hear the roaring cars driving on the road above them. William thought he would have to get his hearing checked when he got back home. If he got back home.

"So…" Calder said eventually. "Why take the sewers? It's nighttime."

"Easier to get in unnoticed. The axe kind of draws attention."

"We should have gotten more axes," William realized too late. "These daggers won't be much help…"

"Why?" Calder said. "It's not like that's what gets it in th—"

"Cal," William hissed, jabbing him in the ribs.

Angel gave them a sideways glance. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," William replied quickly. "Just that we're going to help you kill this thing."

Angel raised his eyebrows with much skepticism. " _You're_ going to help me kill it?"

"What?" Calder said defensively. "We've killed demons before."

"Mm," Angel said. "Right. How old are you kids?"

"17," Calder replied.

"16," William added, for himself. His birthday wasn't for a few more months.

Angel snorted. "16," he said, shaking his head. "Who would teach 16-year-olds how to fight?"

" _You_ ," the boys said together.

Angel raised his eyebrows at them. Finally he sighed and said, "Sure." Then he looked forward and mumbled, "I'd appreciate the help."

William and Calder looked at each other and smiled.

* * *

"Okay, now we hold hands," Cordy said, and stretched out her hands to be taken. "Close our eyes," Cordy closed hers in demonstration, "and theoretically I should be able to somehow pull us back to a very specific time and place in Earth history."

"Didn't they tell you how to do it when they gave you the power?" Judith asked, tentatively taking one of Cordelia's hands.

"Kind of," she said. "The Powers give a lot of instructions via instinct, so I'm just going with my gut." Cordy cracked an eye open. "Hand, Angel?"

"Right," he said, and extended his hand hesitantly, now clean and glass-free, but stopped. "You know, maybe you should practice first. Just go back five minutes or something."

"I've got this, Angel, don't worry." She motioned her fingers impatiently, and Angel took them.

"Okay," Cordy said, relaxing her shoulders and closing her eyes again. "Eyes closed, think Hyperion 1952, and…hold on tight."


	13. Chapter 13

The lobby was far too quiet when William, Calder, and Angel returned via the creepy basement. They looked around uncertainly as they wandered into the deserted lobby. Angel glanced up, as if listening to something.

"Wait here," Angel said, and headed toward the stairs.

"Why?" Calder asked. "We were going to help you."

Angel stopped and looked at them, his expression blank, but emotions that neither of the boys could understand swirled around his eyes. "Sometimes people are more dangerous than demons," he said. Then he turned and went up the stairs alone.

* * *

The sensation of time whooshing by seem much less…well… _whoosh-y_ than Judith expected. True enough, shapes and colors blurred by faster than a bullet train, passing just centimeters from her face, and it made her eyes work entirely too hard to stay oriented. Perhaps that was why Cordelia had instructed them to close their eyes, though Judith could hardly help but take a peek at what passing time actually looked like. She closed them again, but she still felt nothing like wind or a swooping sensation in the stomach to tell her just how quickly they were falling backwards. She _was_ able to tell, however, when they started slowing down—or maybe that was only because Cordelia did not seem to be slowing down with her.

Judith tightened her grip on Cordelia's hand and felt her grip back. She opened her eyes to try to look at Cordelia, but she couldn't see through the blurs that flashed by them. Judith's speed was steadily declining, pulling her sweating hand slowly out of Cordelia's, no matter how much they tightened their holds.

And then, Judith slipped out of her grasp altogether.

Everything stopped and her feet felt solid ground (though she hadn't noticed the ground _not_ being solid before). As if her senses returned to her one at a time, Judith first was only able to see where she was: a small room with dark green walls, looking out through an open door into a much larger room, like a lobby. The floors were a classy marble, and the architecture distinctly old (she wondered exactly how far back in time she was).

Then her sense of smell returned; for a split second it was powerful enough for her to pick up and recognize the same sort of scents that were in Angel's apartment: wood, paper books, tea, and wisps of Angel himself.

And then she felt the slight breeze from an ancient fan stirring the warm air of the room, and finally, she heard voices. Specifically, she heard Angel's voice. Judith whirled around, breathing an enormous sigh of relief.

Angel was facing away from her, bent over a large wooden desk covered with crumbling papers, pointing to one of them and saying something to a man with sandy hair and glasses on the other side of the desk, who was staring at her with an utterly bemused expression.

"Er…" the man said.

"What?" Angel asked, glancing up at the man, and then following his gaze to Judith. Angel straightened up immediately, frowning in the same confused way as the other man, and Judith's breathing constricted again.

"Sorry, we didn't hear you come in…" Angel said uncertainly. "Can we help you?"

"Er," Judith said, a bit startled at Angel's American accent. She knew he had spent a lot of time there (here, she reminded herself), but not that he'd adopted their accent. "I'm not sure."

"Okaaay…" Angel said, and glanced at the man behind him.

"What are you?" the other man—British, by _his_ accent—asked.

Judith hesitated, taken aback by both the boldness and strangeness of the question. "I'm…a woman?" she said, hoping she'd said the answer he'd been looking for (though she was wearing a summer dress and had a distinctly female shape, so now that she thought about it, she somehow doubted that he was asking her gender).

The British man leaned toward Angel and asked him quietly, "Is she human?"

Angel glanced at her appraisingly (Judith fidgeted uncomfortably), and said, "Yeah. Why?"

The man frowned even more deeply. "Because she didn't walk in here. She just…appeared."

Angel stood even straighter, glancing at Judith with a surprising distrust, and instinctively moved to block what Judith now noticed was a bassinet.

"I can explain that," Judith said quickly. "I think."

Angel crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at her expectantly.

"You see, I was time traveling…"

" _Really?_ " the British man exclaimed, sharing a quick glance with Angel. "How?"

"Erm," Judith swallowed through a dry mouth. "I don't know, really. I know someone who can time travel, and she was helping me rescue my son. He's been…well, we don't really know what happened, but he's in the 1950's. I lost my grip on the way, and…here I am."

"Fascinating!" the man said, circling around the desk to approach her. "This person…is she human, or a witch, perhaps, or some sort of…time-traveling demon." He glanced at Angel again. "Time Lord…"

"Wesley," Angel said quietly.

"Erm," Judith said again. "You know her, actually. I think you know her by now. Perhaps not… When are we?"

"Oh!" the man—Wesley—said. "2002. January, 2002. The 24th, I think. Right?" He turned to Angel, who shrugged in an _I think so…_ sort of way. Wesley turned back to Judith. "Who is she?"

"Do you know…Cordelia Chase?"

" _Cordelia?_ " Angel and Wesley cried together.

"Cordy can _time travel?_ " Angel said incredulously, now drawing level with Wesley.

"Not yet, I surmise," Judith said, shrinking back slightly.

"How?" Wesley asked, excitement lighting up his eyes.

Judith shook her said uncertainly, "She said something about a privilege from the Powers That Be?"

"Really?" Wesley said, and he and Angel shared a significant glance. "Do you suppose this could be one of the side-effects?" he asked quietly.

Angel shrugged, "I don't know, she said it was from the Powers, not Cordy's demon half…"

Judith started; she would definitely have to ask about that later.

Wesley continued in an excited murmur, "Perhaps they're the same thing—she was imparted with the demon half by her guide sent from the Powers, after all…"

"Look," Judith interrupted. "I probably shouldn't have said anything. It's not all that important if she doesn't have the ability now… But I _really_ need to leave as _soon_ as possible. My son…" She looked over at Angel, pleading in the only way a parent could, and Angel nodded in understanding.

"She's right, Wes," Angel said. "Let's hit the books."

* * *

Calder and William shuffled restlessly in the empty lobby, glancing at the other one each time their thoughts took a particularly paranoid turn, as though to remind themselves not to listen to it.

"I think we should go up there," Calder finally said.

William shook his head, "Angel said to stay here."

Calder stared at William incredulously.

William shifted. "Well don't you think he knows better?"

A sudden shout of voices from upstairs made them jump slightly. William added in defense of his position, "And he's got a point about mobs of paranoid people…"

"I think he was just getting rid of us," Calder mumbled. "People don't have long claws or sharp fangs…" In spite of himself, Calder also glanced warily up the stairs. "They're not so—"

But the loud jeers of the crowd rounded the corner upstairs and spilled out into the balcony above the lobby like a flash flood. William and Calder cried out and instinctively dashed behind the front desk to avoid the people overflowing onto the staircase and the open lobby floor. They peered up over the top of the counter to watch in terrified fascination.

"Get him over there!" someone shouted, and Frank the bellhop slapped the banister gleefully.

"Ha-ha, we got you now!" he yelled, a fanatic spark in his eyes. "Come on, string him up! String him up!"

As the crowd parted for someone to throw a rope over the rafters, Angel's beaten body was shoved up against the railing, and William and Calder gasped. They watched in frozen horror as someone forced Angel's bruised head to look up so they could pull the noose around it. The crowd cheered for them to push Angel over the edge.

"Why doesn't he _do_ something?" William whispered.

Calder didn't answer. He just gripped the edge of the counter harder so that his knuckles turned white. The swarming crowd jostled Angel's body between them, each eager to help in the justice-serving, in eliminating the one that threatened all who stayed and worked there.

Angel wearily lifted his head and, for just a moment, turned to the side, catching eyes with somebody in the middle of the crowd as if speaking silently with them. William followed the line of unsaid conversation and caught sight of a familiar-looking white floral dress. Then someone in the crowd moved and revealed Judy's sobbing face, staring back at Angel in that way that meant that she was so very, very sorry. William's stomach lurched.

He looked back at Angel. The nearest people in the crowd hoisted Angel up and, before William could look away, they shoved Angel over the edge of the railing. His body jolted at the end of the taut rope in a way that made William turn around and be sick in the nearest trashcan. The acidity of his stomach fluids burned William's throat and he dry-heaved a few more times before he felt well enough to turn back around.

By the time he came back to Calder—who was also looking a bit green—the crowd had hushed into a horrified silence.

William glared at Judy's crying face. That had been Angel's moment: his first friend, his first _Save the Day_ event, and she just let the crowd throw him over the edge. How was a man as unfriendly and untrusting as 1950's-Angel supposed to want to save her now?

William's stomach turned again, but this time in excitement. Something else must be about to happen; something to seal Angel's resolve in helping these people.

The crowd began to disperse. Judy fled with the others and doors slammed protectively behind them all. Frank was the last one out, and Angel still swung.

Maybe Angel still had a chance, William thought hopefully. Angel hadn't told them about being hung from the rafters of his own hotel, but that's a rather gruesome detail for a kid to hear. He might have left it out. Maybe the Champion Light was already shining in Angel now, and he would jump down and slay the Paranoia demon anyway. William clung to his hope like a life raft. He and Calder tentatively stood up.

Angel opened his eyes so suddenly it made both the boys jump. He pulled himself up and took the noose off his neck, dropping the dozen or so feet to the floor like a cat. Angel stood up, a harsh red line burning under his chin.

The air by the door to the garden shimmered like summer heat, and Angel turned to look at it. A demon appeared; hovering, cloaked, and with sharp teeth and long tentacles that squirmed in a way that made William's stomach turn again. The Thessulac laughed, and William and Calder surreptitiously hid themselves behind the column near the end of the desk.

"Well I don't know about you," it said. "But I'm _stuffed!_ "

William nudged Calder and whispered frantically, "The axe! He must have left it upstairs!"

"No way to get it now, mate," Calder replied quietly. "We'll have to wait for Angel to make the first move." He lowered his voice even further. "How did he get that lightning bolt?"

"I don't remember," William said worriedly. "Some sort of electrical outlet, I think." They glanced around, looking for a good candidate for something they could stick a slimy tentacle into.

"There," Calder pointed to a spot beside the doorway that led to the manager's office where a tiny outlet sat in the wall, waiting for a small fan or a vacuum cleaner to feed power to.

"Will it be enough?" William whispered skeptically.

"It must," Calder replied.

William nodded, biting his lip. He glanced back out at Angel, who had just turned and was heading for the door. "Wait," William said. "Where's he going?"

"And you thought you'd made a friend!" The Thessulac called after him. "News flash! You _had!"_

Angel stopped, though he didn't turn around. The Thessulac glided on its slimy snake feet toward Angel, towering over him. Angel didn't seem to notice, but Calder and William gulped in fear.

"Should we…?" Calder started.

William just stared at the interaction.

"And now, she's a meal that's gonna last me a lifetime!" the demon laughed. It bent over and then whispered, as if sharing a secret with an old friend, "Hey, you know what? There is an entire hotel here just full of tortured souls that could really use your help. What do you say?"

William glanced at Calder. "Get ready," he whispered, and Calder nodded. They tensed, preparing to spring out at the first sign. This was it.

There was a brief silence. Angel turned his head the slightest bit toward the Thessulac, glancing at the boys behind the pillar, catching William's eye. They nodded and waited for his signal.

The next moment seemed endless as William watched Angel's eyes, searching desperately for that spark that he knew so well by now: the one that delighted both in the impending fight and in the satisfaction of saving a life. William looked hard at Angel-harder than he ever had… But he couldn't see it. His hope slipped through his fingers like sand, and Angel seemed to wait until the last grain fell before he said with a chilling emptiness,

"Take them all."

William collapsed incredulously against the pillar, and the demon's laughter drowned out Angel's footsteps as he left the building.

"Angel!" Calder called, but Angel ignored him. The Thessulac turned to look at Calder, smiling its shark-like teeth at him. "Care to join the party?" it asked.

Calder stared at it coldly. The Thessulac chuckled again.

"You're gonna miss the fun…" it sang.

Calder set his jaw in a determined frown. "Will, are you ready?"

William didn't respond.

"Will!" Calder nudged him sharply. "Pull together! We have to see this done!"

William looked over at Calder. "What did we do wrong?" he asked quietly. "How did we screw this up so badly?"

The Thessulac laughed again as it listened in on William's thoughts.

"Don't listen to it, Will. This wasn't our fault."

"So this was supposed to happen?" William said, straightening up. "Angel lied to us? Is that what you're saying?"

"Wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

"But—"

"Will! Let's get it done!"

"It won't work, boys…" the Thessulac said, inching over to them. "You don't have the skills to kill _me_."

"Maybe not," Calder said, standing his ground as the demon drew nearer. "But we can try!" And with that, he dashed forward, bent down, grabbed one of the longer tentacles, and ran over to the electrical outlet.

" _Run_ , Will!" he shouted as he shoved it into the tiny opening, crying out as meager bit of current that ran through the wet slime shocked his hand. Then he took off, grabbing William as he went, and they skirted past the Thessulac, which was screaming in pain from its shocked snake-arm, and they fled out the door with hardly a look back.

* * *

Of all of the fear that Judith had ever experienced in her life—and it was quite a bit—Judith thought that this was indeed the strangest sense of it. She had experienced the fear of powerlessness and of being lost, but never both at once; nor mixed with the comfort of being near someone she'd known and trusted for years, and the awkwardness of him not knowing or trusting her at all in return.

When the baby started crying, Angel picked him up with more gentleness than he handled the cracking paper books in his apartment, and in undivided attention to quiet the wailing with mother-like coddling, left to get his bottle without a second glance at Judith.

Not that that was an unreasonable thing to do, just that Angel was showing a side of himself that Judith had never seen—indeed, had never imagined could be there—and the Angel she knew would likely have been abashed to show it in front of her. Judith turned back to the book she was skimming to find time-traveling spells, but found it difficult to concentrate; a problem that Wesley did not seem to have at all.

He was bent eagerly over several volumes at once, a pen in hand that would occasionally scribble something down as his eyes flew through the texts. Judith thought as she watched him that, given more time and less pressing circumstances, she would like to get to know this man better. There was a measure of respect in his manner for both the words he was reading and the books that contained them which reminded Judith a lot of herself.

She smiled inside, trying to fend off the nagging fear that she might never leave the early 21st century (and then would have _plenty_ of time to get to know Wesley). What would she do, she wondered, knowing that horrible things were just around the corner for this happy little group of people? Would she try to change it? Ride the turbulence alongside them? Or leave and start a new life altogether?

As Angel stood just outside the door to the office, using what must have been a microwave to heat up the baby formula, Judith heard Cordelia approach Angel and the crying baby.

"Is Connor hungry?" Cordy asked in a sweet, soft voice.

Judith leaned forward in her chair so she could see Cordelia through the door. Her hair was shorter and straighter than the Cordelia Judith knew, but otherwise seemed unchanged. In appearance, anyway.

"Yes he is; yes he is…" Cordelia cooed. Her head snapped up as she held out her arms and demanded suddenly, "Hand him over."

"Have you—"

"Washed my hands? Twice."

"And—"

"My face? Yes, Angel. I am germ-free. And it's a good thing, too, because with all the weapons around here we use to cut, gut, and maim demons, I am _clearly_ the most unsanitary thing in the hotel."

Angel glared at her, but let her take Connor anyway. Cordelia bent over to kiss the baby's forehead and said, all the sweetness returned, "Maybe someday your Daddy will grow out of his germ paranoia. Won't that be nice, Connor? _Then_ you'll know that people actually _don't_ smell like Dial. No they don't…"

Angel continued to glare at her while testing the formula temperature on his wrist, then he handed her the bottle and draped the burping cloth on her shoulder. "Take him out in the sun?" he requested.

Cordelia glanced up at him with a small smile and nodded. Angel watched them walk away before turning back to the office. He stopped in the doorway when he noticed Judith watching him, and she jolted with embarrassment.

"My son…" Angel said quietly. "Connor."

"Yes," Judith replied with a small smile. It was still difficult to comprehend. After eight years of wondering what kind of role model he was for _her_ son, of not trusting that he had any kind of parental instinct, now she was wondering, not _if_ he had those instincts, but _how much_ they influenced his relationship with William and Calder. They called him a friend, looked up to him as a mentor...but did they actually think of him as a father figure?

Angel had a son. And he had just, in his own way, introduced him to Judith. Her smile widened. "I know. He's beautiful."

* * *

William and Calder stumbled out onto the sidewalk in front of the Hyperion and looked around blindly. _Now_ what were they going to do?

"Come on," Calder said, randomly choosing to go east, and William followed Calder's brisk pace without a word or a thought. He couldn't think about anything at that moment; like his mind was frostbitten and immobile. Maybe it was better that way. If it thawed, he'd have to think about, oh, perhaps the fact that Angel had just condemned dozens of souls to death—including theirs. A bitter tear formed in William's eye and he blinked it away.

"Will, look," Calder suddenly pointed up ahead, where Angel's figure stood about a block away, resting against a building wall and with a slight glow near his lips that suggested a lit cigarette.

William looked, and broke into a jog at the same time as Calder. Somehow, catching up with Angel seemed incredibly important at that moment—like just talking to him could solve everything. He must be waiting for them there, William's Hope said. It was part of his plan the whole time. They would go back in when they had a proper lightning bolt.

Angel noticed their approach, took one last draw from his cigarette, and flicked it to the ground without bothering to stamp it out. He turned and walked away from them.

"Angel, wait!" William called, but Angel only sped up and rounded the corner.

"Through here," Calder said, and he veered off into a system of allies that would likely provide a shortcut for them, if they could figure out a way through. William jogged alongside Calder, trying to keep tabs on their turns and the street they wanted to end up on. He somehow knew that if they lost Angel tonight, they lost him forever.

When they emerged again, William breathed a sigh of relief. They had caught up with Angel significantly, though they both broke into a full-out run anyway.

Angel had just come upon a bridge when he stopped and turned at their slapping feet. He watched them for a second, then climbed up on the railing of the bridge and stepped off.

Calder swore under his breath. Both of them were winded, not as much from the exercise as from the fear of what was at stake. They couldn't lose him.

They stopped when they reached the railing and looked over. It wasn't a very long drop, relatively speaking, and the road beneath was deserted, leading to an industrial area of town. Angel walked swiftly along it away from them.

"Angel!" Calder called. He grunted in frustration and ran for the stairs leading down the embankment, William close behind.

 _We can't catch him_ , William thought suddenly. Angel was faster than them. As soon as he wanted to, he could slip away and never see them again—well, not for 250 years, anyway. _Why is he toying with us? Why won't he just end it?_

Hope sparked again in William as he realized what must be the truth: that Angel needed to talk to them, too. Talking always helped things: William knew that well from his mother. Angel must know it, too, on some level.

"Angel, wait!" Calder yelled again, taking the stairs downward two at a time. Angel did not wait.

William stopped at the second landing, breathing heavily as he gripped the railing and watched Angel stride further away. "We're not her, Angel!" His yells echoed down the road, and Angel hesitated. William's heart leaped and a drop of rain fell on his hand. "We would never betray you!"

Angel stood still for a moment. William gave a small smile of victory and started to run down the stairs again. Calder had almost caught up to Angel by now, but as if sensing Calder's closeness, Angel started to move again.

"Angel," Calder panted, still running, "we're your friends!"

"Liar!" Angel rounded on him so suddenly that Calder almost tripped over himself as he stopped. Angel caught Calder and pushed him hard against the concrete barrier holding back the dirt embankment. William's throat tightened and he reminded himself that Angel has a soul; he doesn't kill people now.

_He just lets other demons kill for him…_

"No, Angel, it's true," Calder gasped. Angel's strong arm against Calder's chest was preventing him from getting the air he needed and a particularly hard gasp of air turned into a sob. A few more drops of rain fell. William finally caught up with them and stopped cautiously several feet away, breathing through a stitch in his side.

"If that's what you think, then _I'm_ the liar," Angel said, his dark eyes so malicious that they might as well have been vampiric-yellow.

William's mouth twitched. "Angel…?"

Angel glared at William. "And if you _ever_ think any differently, it's because I'm using you. I guarantee it."

"Why?" William said, his stomach in knots.

"Why?" Angel stepped back, letting Calder go, who immediately bent over the pain in his lungs. Angel turned to William.

William wasn't sure if he should back away from Angel's slow advances or not, but even if he decided that he should, he didn't think he could move if he tried.

"Because you humans will _always_ betray me," Angel said. "You _have_ to, given what I am. And if you don't betray me, then I'll eventually turn on you, given what _you_ are. It's the way things work, kid. Like the scorpion and the turtle."

"The what?" Calder said.

"Angel, you have to believe us," William said softly. "It's not like that. We're your friends, we _know_ you."

"You don't," Angel replied. "And you never will. If you get back to your own time, ask me how much I've never told you. Ask me why I would ever befriend a couple of kids. The answer won't be something you like, but I promise: it will be the one thing I'll tell you the truth about."

William swallowed painfully. "Why?"

"Because there's nothing in my nature that makes me give a damn about people. I'm supposed to kill you, remember?"

"There must be something," William said softly. "You cared about Judy…"

Angel hesitated for the briefest second. "You're wrong," he said and started to back away.

"But…"

"But nothing," Angel said. "Don't you get it? When it comes to humans, when it comes to Judy, when it comes to _you_ , I Don't. Fucking. _Care_."

Then he turned and walked away, the now drizzling rain hiding the tears on William's cheeks.


	14. Chapter 14

Calder focused on his own pain and gasped in breaths of air longer and more loudly than he needed to, pretending he couldn't hear William's soft sobs and giving him time to gather himself. Finally, Calder stood up straight, and without a word to each other, they turned and walked away, toward the bridge they'd come down from, so that they might have shelter from the rain.

They were both already dripping and shivering by the time they came to the bridge, so the cold, dry shelter hardly felt comforting. Still, they climbed up off the road and settled in the crevice where the ground and the underside of the bridge met. Trembling, they stared out into the dreary, dirty darkness.

Finally, William croaked out, "What are we going to do?"

Calder shrugged beside him. "I don't know." How was he supposed to know such a thing? He was as lost as William. "Get some sleep, I guess," he added eventually. "What else can we do?"

William shook his head, also not knowing. They were quiet for a few more moments.

"You sleep first," Calder said, clearing his throat. "I'll take first watch."

"What are you watching for?"

Calder shrugged again. "Could be vampires around or something."

William nodded. "Wake me up when you get tired…"

"Sure."

And William laid down, his back against Calder for warmth, and curled up as best he could. Another earthquake rumbled briefly under them, though they hardly took notice of it this time.

The rain pattered around them, not at all soothing like it was from their warm beds at home. They listened to it and the occasional rumble of a car overhead, neither feeling particularly tired, despite the late hour. Calder pulled his dagger out and held it loosely in front of him.

"Mm?" William looked up at the movement.

"Just in case," Calder replied, and William settled back down.

William sighed, trembling slightly. "How'd we ever end up here, Cal?" he whispered.

Calder took a moment to answer. Once, during Calder's brief stint as a gang member (if he could even call it that, looking back on it now), he'd been the lookout while everyone else was spray-painting vulgarities on some wall, and he'd found himself sitting alone in the shadows around the corner from everyone else. He'd seen a homeless man across the street, also trying to hide in the shadows and get some restless sleep. Calder had suddenly been struck with the thought of how it might feel to sleep where he was at that moment, between those two trashcans, because it was the safest place he could possibly find. He had thought about his bed at home, and how he was, by choice, not asleep in it at that moment. Calder had wondered if somewhere along that homeless man's life he'd also made the same choice, and if that was part of the reason why he now had no choice at all.

How did they end up there? "Oh," Calder eventually sighed. "It just happens to some people…"

And after a long time, William finally fell restlessly asleep.

* * *

Judith had only been in 2002 for a little more than an hour, but her increasing nerves and frustration (not helped by the complete silence of the office) finally got the better of her. Her son could be _anywhere_. Well, anywhere in Los Angeles 1952, but that was still a significant amount of anywhere.

"Is there something else we could try?" she asked finally, looking up from her book.

Wesley and Angel also looked up.

"Something like…" she fished for the correct word to use for this time. "The internet?"

Wesley let out a chuckle. "The internet…faster, maybe, but notoriously unreliable for something like this."

Judith's heart sank. "Really?" She sighed. And she thought she would have _liked_ experiencing the primitivity of history… "I'm sorry, I know you're doing your best, but…"

Wesley frowned in thought. "I suppose I could call a few of the magic stores in the area. Or I could make a long-distance call to Professor Whittingham at the Watcher's Academy—I was one of her favorites…" He smiled. "Or possibly—"

But he was cut off by a sudden singing, the voice echoing clearly through the lobby and into the office with a perfect and joyful pitch. Wesley grimaced and let out a sigh in the way of one who asked for the solution to the riddle and heard the obvious answer.

Angel raised his eyebrows. "Or possibly our resident psychic?"

* * *

"Yes," Wesley sighed again. "Possibly…"

The first thing Cordy did when she and Angel landed in 1952 was to swear profusely.

Luckily, since the words weren't in any human language, potential eavesdroppers would not have been able to understand them. Angel, however, did.

"Geez, Cordy," he whistled, moving instinctively into the darker shade of the overhanging roof in the Hyperion's garden, though the sun had almost set. "Who do you kiss with that mouth?"

"You!" she retorted without thinking about it. Then, realizing what she said and the awkward shifting it led to for both of them, she ignored it completely and continued, "I lost Judith."

"What?" Angel looked quickly around, only just realizing that Judith was not with them.

"It's okay," Cordy said. "I moved us to the Hyperion as soon as possible just in case something like this happened, since I didn't for sure know if I could bring people with me. So she's here…just not _now_."

"You didn't know _for sure_ if you could bring people?"

"Not the point, Angel!"

Angel rolled his eyes. "Right… So, what do we do? Do you have any idea when we lost her?"

Cordy brought her hands to her forehead, thinking. "Definitely before 2020. Definitely after 1980."

"Oh good, that's good," Angel said. "So we'll just start at January 1, 1980 and work our way forward."

Cordy shook her head. "No you need to stay here. Find those kids. I'll come back for you."

"You're not actually going to do what I just said?"

"No, I'm going to sit down and think about it first. But that doesn't mean that you can't go inside and…" Cordy's expression suddenly softened. Then she smiled. "Look where we are."

Angel looked around and took in their surroundings, letting it sink in for the first time.

"Never thought I'd see this place again," Cordy said. "I forgot how beautiful it was."

"They had gardeners in the 1950's," Angel said.

"Oh…that's probably it. But still…" Cordelia sat down on one of the stone benches and Angel sat next to her, both lost in memories. Wind swirled down from above, carrying the scents of the flowers and plants around the garden and rustling the leaves. They each relaxed, finally letting some of the tension go. Cordelia smiled, took a deep breath, and looked over at Angel.

"Did you just remember what I just remembered?"

Angel looked over at her. "Yeah."

"What's the date?"

"January 24, 2002."

Cordy gave a small smile. "Gotta love that photographic memory. I'll be back soon."

Angel nodded, and Cordy stood and vanished.

* * *

When Calder awoke, it was just before dawn. The rain had stopped. He groaned, having only been asleep for a few hours, and debated about whether or not he should try to get some more sleep. They could be picked up by police in broad daylight, but he hadn't been able to come up with anything to do about their situation in all the time he'd kept watch.

He'd lied to William at first so that he could fall asleep, but the shadow that they'd seen in their bathroom had reappeared far off down the road, only hesitating when it saw Calder pull his dagger out. Thus, his exhausted thoughts were less on getting out of their situation as they were on surviving the night. He'd pointed the lurking shadow out to William when he took over the watch, and suffered the same kind of sleep that he supposed William must have had.

So when he awoke, it was with a complete sense of dread at facing a day without much sleep and with someone else looking to him for answers. His stomach rumbled uncomfortably.

"I'm starving, too," William said quietly. "We could go dumpster diving in a bit."

"Sure," Calder said, yawning. He sat up. "But we should go now, before the police are really out."

"No," William replied, unusually firmly. "We need to wait for the sun to come up."

"Why?"

"Because," William said, nodding at the shadow that had inched its way closer during the night, and now sat in the crevice on the opposite side of the street. "We're going to trap that thing."

Calder's mouth opened slightly. "What?" he said. "How? Why?"

"I've been watching it all night," William said quietly. "It really is just a shadow, and it appeared right after two of the three earthquakes we've been in so far. That's pretty decent odds. I think…" he paused before saying the name. "I think Angel was right: I think it's here because of us. So we need to talk to it. We need to catch it."

"Okay…" Calder said, a bit bewildered. "But you just said: it's a shadow. How do we catch a shadow?"

"With light," William said simply, and Calder felt a bit stupid for not realizing it himself. William watched the shadow for a moment, which was flitting about as if pacing. "It slowed down when the moon came out. It wouldn't cross the road when the moon was low in the sky because the angle lit most of the road up. And it doesn't like when I reflect the moonlight or a streetlamp at it with my dagger. I think it's still weak, and it's trying to figure out how to get to us."

"What do you think it wants?"

William shrugged. "I don't know. But we need to wait here until the sun is properly up. That way, we can leave and get what we need without it following us."

"What do we need?"

"First: food. Second: a decent map of the city. Third: a whole bunch of mirrors. Do you still have your Palm?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I left mine at the hotel."

Calder stared at him a moment. "You really have this all figured out," he said eventually, just as the top of the sun peeked up over the horizon of hills and buildings.

"Yup," William replied, standing up.

Calder hesitated, trying to figure out which question word to use. William glanced down at him.

"Because," he answered. "It's about time I did."


	15. Chapter 15

Judith stood nervously in front of Lorne out in the garden. Still in shock from his green appearance, and swimming from the whirlwind of introductions, hurried explanations, and bewildered glances (from both Lorne and Cordelia, who had passed by with an empty bottle and a sleeping baby), it was little wonder that her expression was so blank when Lorne asked her to sing.

"Erm…" she said, her voice strangely high-pitched. She cleared her throat to a normal frequency. "Sing?"

"Yeah, sweetheart. Sing your little heart out. It helps me read you better," Lorne said. "Opens the floodgates, if you will. Just a few bars, doesn't have to be anything in particular."

"Read me?"

"Yes, read your soul. It's my job—well, _was_ my job, until Angel and his crew destroyed my bar. _Twice_."

Judith raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah," Lorne said. "And did they offer to pay for it? No…"

"So you'll read my soul," Judith steered the conversation back on track. "And tell me what?"

"Your path, darling. You'll see what I mean. Go on…" Lorne sat down on a bench as if lounging on a beach chair with an invisible cocktail in hand and waited expectantly.

Judith shifted uncertainly. "What exactly will you find out about me?"

Lorne sighed. "Does the term 'bare your soul' mean anything to you? 'Cause if not…" He laughed. "Well, it should. But just in case: you can't keep secrets from me."

Judith nodded, "I see." She thought for a moment. "I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with that."

Lorne smiled consolingly at her and stood up so their eyes were level. "Honey, your secrets are safe with me. Hey, I've read _Angel_ and managed to keep his many issues behind my tightly-locked lips, no matter how much easier it would have been to get it all out in the open; although believe-you-me, some of those issues _need_ to stay locked away. Far away…"

Judith shifted uncomfortably again.

"Look, doll, the soul is a big thing to bare. And also bear. Hmm," he thought about that for a second. "Anyway, all I'm going to get from one little reading is where you are now and what brought you here; and that'll tell me where you're headed. That's not so bad, is it?"

Judith frowned. "I'm not quite as concerned about me," she said, "as I am about revealing things that are to come for all of you. It's not my place."

"Oh," Lorne said. "Well if that's all, Sugar Cookie, I'll just swear an oath to secrecy right here, right now. Only I won't put my hand over my heart, if it's all the same to you. _Awkward_ , if you know what I'm saying," he chuckled nervously.

Judith, of course, had no idea what he was saying, but she decided it wasn't important. "I have your word?" she asked. "No matter what you see?"

Lorne held up a very green hand. "My word," he replied solemnly.

Judith nodded hesitantly, and Lorne smiled, settling down on the garden bench again.

"So…sing anything?" she asked.

" _Anything_." Lorne replied.

Judith took a deep breath to prepare herself, then shakily began to sing a lullaby she'd used to help William fall asleep as a baby, wondering all the while exactly what her soul was telling this Good Green Demon in front of her. As she sang her voice became stronger, and Lorne closed his eyes with a smile as he listened. He let her continue a few extra measures more than he needed before he stopped her.

"Alright sweetheart," he said at the end of a verse, holding up a hand. "You've got a pretty voice there. I'd love to hear you with a little training in your background; not a lot of people can carry a tune like that without…" he stopped at Judith's look. He sighed and suddenly became quite solemn. "Okay. Here's the dealio: You've got a big thing with loss, don't you? You've been through it a lot."

Judith bit her lip, terrified of where he might be taking this. "Yes," she said with as steady a voice as she could.

"Yeah, and you deal with it pretty well. A lot better than most people. But what's going to happen when you lose _him_?"

Judith's heart plunged into her stomach, which was already twisted in a painful knot. "I will fall apart," Judith whispered.

"Like hell you will," Lorne said, "and I mean that almost literally. You will look, feel, and act like hell." Lorne gave a sharp exhale and shook his head. "I wouldn't wanna be around for that…"

Judith bit her lip.

"And that's your problem right there," Lorne continued.

Judith looked up. "I thought my problem was getting back to 1952."

Lorne waved a hand. "Don't worry about that. Our Little Cordy is on her way right now to get you. Which reminds me, I need make sure she and Angel remember this date so they know where to find you. Maybe I'll have them write it down… Anywho, your problem isn't getting there, or even getting back home; to the _23rd century_."

Judith opened her mouth, but Lorne cut her off. "I know, I know, I can't say anything. And by the by, that's the only thing about _any_ of our futures that I got." Judith let out a long sigh of relief. " _Man_ I wish I hadn't promised that; how fun would it be to tell Cordelia she lives to be over 200?" He chuckled. "I bet the first thing she'd ask is how her hair looks…" Lorne glanced up and noticed Judith's raised eyebrows. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "But the point is," he continued, "you've lost him already, and you know it."

Judith's chin trembled, but she held herself together, though her body was nearly tight enough to force the tears out.

"The Universe is sending you a message, love. It's screaming at you to get these issues the hell out of your system, or it's just gonna keep coming, in a 'What you resist, persists,' kind of deal. So my best and only advice for you now is to let him go. 'Cause it's only then that you can get him back."

Judith held back the shimmer in her eyes and took a deep breath, frowning. "How can that be?" she asked.

Lorne sighed. "Sometimes, darlin', you just have to lose something to gain it. It's a weird rule of the universe that I don't even _try_ to get."

Judith swallowed and nodded.

"Hey now," Lorne said, much more gently now. He stood up and placed two surprisingly comforting hands on her shoulders. "I haven't told you anything you don't already know. Am I wrong? Take a few deep breaths and you'll be fine."

Judith did take several deep breaths, but she did not feel better.

"How on earth," she said, "do I let go of _my son?_ The other deaths I can bear, but—"

"Hold on," Lorne interrupted, holding up his hands. "Now when did I say _anything_ about death? I don't do those kinds of readings. Loss and death are two very different things, which you should know."

Judith nodded. "I do. But in another sense they're the same, aren't they? Losing Will in any sense means the death of our relationship as we know it, and that can be every bit as difficult. So how do I willingly walk into that? I don't have much time, and letting go is a long process."

"Nuh-uh," Lorne said. "Letting go _comfortably_ is a long process. Letting go instantly is…well, instant. It's the old band-aid metaphor. Lots of people have been through the same thing, darling, only for you it's worse. Not because it's a worse situation, but because you have issues that make it worse." Lorne tentatively scrunched his face. "Make sense?"

Judith nodded slowly.

"Alright, well, there endeth the reading. You just have a seat, and I'll get you some water while we wait for—"

But before he could finish, there was a small _whoosh_ at the other side of the garden and they turned to see Cordelia—the one that Judith knew—glance around to get her bearings. Her eyes stopped when she saw Lorne. They held a gaze for a moment, and then Lorne smiled.

Extending his arms toward Cordelia, Lorne said, "You know you want to, sweetheart."

Cordelia smiled too, and before Judith saw her move, she was in Lorne's embrace, holding him tightly. The stood there a little longer than was comfortable, and finally Cordelia let him go and stepped back, a tear on her cheek.

"Hey now," Lorne soothed, and wiped the tear away. "It's been a long time for you, hasn't it, doll?"

Cordy glanced at Judith. "How much did you tell him?" she asked.

"I sang for him," Judith replied. "He doesn't know much, though."

"Oh," Cordy said, looking back at Lorne. "You're not going to—"

"Tell anyone? Gotta say, I'm kinda bursting to. But I'm a demon of my word, so…no."

Cordy smiled and glanced at the doors that led to the lobby. "Are they all in there?" she asked.

"Gunn and Fred are running errands, but they should be back soon. You wanna come in?"

Cordy shook her head. "No. Well, yeah, but… I can't. We need to go."

"You sure? You don't look more than a few years older—you could pull it off."

"No, Lorne. Please don't make this harder. I couldn't trust Angel to come here with me for the same reason I can't trust myself to go in there right now."

Lorne studied Cordelia for a moment. "Does it get that bad?"

Cordy gave him a sad smile. "Did you think our lives were going to be easy?"

"One can hope," Lorne shrugged.

Inside, the baby started to cry again, his wails carrying out into the garden. Cordelia took in a sharp breath, held her hand out to Judith, and said, "We really need to go. Now."

As Judith took her hand, Lorne said to her, "Stop and visit again sometime. I don't always give gloomy readings."

Cordy snorted.

"Hey now! Just because—"

"Goodbye, Lorne," Cordy said, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. As soon as her heels hit the ground again, they were gone.

* * *

William and Calder's first dumpster diving experience was rather successful, all things considered. True, they had to choke down the bread and peanut butter they'd found in the dumpster behind the grocery store—but that was just their sense of propriety, as both the bread and the peanut butter were unopened and theoretically safe, despite the dumpster smell on the outside of the packaging. It wasn't too hard finding a free tourist map, nor was it hard to find someone to point out the unmarked city dump (for what tourist wants to visit a trash site?).

It took about an hour to find mirror fragments that were large enough and another half hour to practice aiming the sunlight off of them. They did not see any sign of a police car the entire morning—though that might have been because they kept to the alleys rather than parade down the city streets in rumpled clothing carrying sharp pieces of mirror. It was almost noon when they returned to the bridge with the trapped shadow beneath it, which William said was perfect.

"Give me your Palm," William said, and Calder fished it out and handed it over. "You go down this side, and I'll go down that side," William instructed. "And keep out of the shadows!"

Calder trembled slightly, but nodded. It sounded mildly like a horror film line. He descended the first flight of the clangy metal stairs, keeping as far away from the bridge as he could. He could see their shadow out of the corner of his eye, pacing with increased vigor. He took a deep breath. He sure hoped this worked…

"Aim it up, so it can't go through the underside of the road," William called from across the way. He, too, had stopped at about the first landing mark, though since the stairs were only on the one side of the bridge, William was sitting in the dry summer grass, feet braced against the steep incline.

Calder carefully set down his pieces of mirror and chose the largest one to use to shine the noon sun up under the bridge. He worked quickly, finding and stacking rocks under the mirror and tried to allow for the sun's movements, but they would still only have a few minutes of questioning time. Hopefully the shadow would not realize that and wait them out. When he and William had their mirrors at the proper angles, leaving no streak of darkness across the underbelly of the bridge for the shadow to escape through, they hurried down the rest of the way to the bottom of the embankment, where they set up two more crisscrossing mirrors to make the shadow's moving space smaller. Its stirrings were becoming frantic now.

"Okay," William said when he was satisfied. "Let's go." And they hurried back up toward the shadow, each still on their own side. "Make sure it can't move," William called to him, and Calder held up his last piece of mirror, reflecting the sun so that it forced the shadow over toward William. Calder had to admit, he _never_ would have thought of this.

"That's good!" William said. He took out Calder's Palm, turned the flashlight function on to its highest setting, and aimed it just below the darkness. Calder glanced nervously at the light cage they'd made—it was already starting to shift.

"Okay!" William called into the darkness. "You're trapped, Shadow!" The shadow flickered on the edge of Calder's light barrier. "We don't want to hurt you," William said. "We just want some answers."

The shadow hissed, and both William and Calder jumped, causing their lights to shake off course. The shadow hissed again—perhaps in pain, though they weren't sure it could feel pain.

"We want to know," William said with a bit of forced bravery, "why are you after us?"

"Affffter. You." The shadow tested the words, as if they were the first it had ever spoken.

Calder breathed a sigh of relief; at least it _could_ speak.

"Yes," William repeated. "You're following us. Why?"

"You. Belong. Elsewhere."

"Yes, we do," William agreed. "Can you help us get back?"

"Not back. Forward."

"Right," William said. "Forward to our own time. Can you help us get there?"

"No space. Anymore," the shadow said.

Calder swallowed. "What in the bloody hell does that mean?" he called, and he felt the shadow's attention shift to him, though it still didn't seem to have a face.

"No room," The shadow repeated.

"Cal," William said. "Ease up a bit on the light."

"I really don't think it means no room for itself, Will!" But Calder nevertheless backed the light off a bit.

"What do you mean there's no room?" William asked.

The shadow turned back to William. "Universe shifted. Holes filled. Must fix."

"How do you fix that?"

"Gone," it said. "Make gone."

William and Calder glanced nervously at each other.

"You mean kill us?" William asked.

The shadow didn't answer.

"You mean _kill us?_ " Calder repeated, pushing his light a little closer.

"Kill…" the shadow repeated. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Make gone, yes." It shifted restlessly. "Fixed."

"I don't like the sound of this, Will…"

"What are you?" William asked. The shadow was silent. William aimed his own light a little closer. "What _are_ you?" he pressed.

Then suddenly the shadow shot upward and slipped between a brand new crack in the sunlight, and before they knew it, it was on the other side of the road, hiding in the crevices. Calder swore.

"It's gotten faster…" William noticed apprehensively.

It was almost dark now. William and Calder had tried to catch the shadow again, without success. Calder had managed to scorch it with a bit of refracted sunlight, but even though it hissed and screeched, it did no damage that they could see. Finally, they left to think of something new while putting as much distance between themselves and the shadow as possible before the sun went down.

"It's not just sunlight," Calder had figured at one point during their walk. "It was scared of the flashlight, too. We just need to stay somewhere where we can have lights on all night."

"Like…a hotel?" William said glumly.

Calder sighed. "Yeah. Like, a hotel that will let us stay for free since we have no money." He rubbed his grumbling stomach. "And give us food."

"How about a church?" William suggested. "They'll often shelter people."

"Not inside," Calder said. "They just let people sleep on the steps or in the courtyards. You have to be part of a program or something. At least in our time you do. It's like visiting a foreign country here…"

"Technically, we _are_ abroad," William pointed out without much enthusiasm.

Getting back on topic, they had then decided that standing underneath a streetlamp all night was not an option. It was too exposed, too likely to flicker, burn out, or go off on a timer, they were easy targets for police and muggers alike, and the light it offered might not be intense enough to keep the thing away when it was at full strength; assuming (and they were) that it was not already at full strength.

They had also considered asking a psychic for help when they passed by a dingy little shop that advertised Tarot readings, but it was closed until the evening.

Finally, William voiced the only option neither of them had said yet. "We should probably go back to the Hyperion."

"Are you crazy?" Calder said. "There a Paranoia Demon in there that is _very_ pissed off at me for trying to electrocute it."

"It's also likely very hungry and too busy gorging himself on everyone else to notice two kids in the lobby."

"Did I ever tell you you've gotten more sensitive in your old age? Just wanted to commend you…"

"And besides," William continued with a slight glare. "I need my Palm back."

So in the end, it was decided: they would take the known danger of the Thessulac over the unknown danger of a shadow that was growing in strength and wanted them "gone."


	16. Chapter 16

Angel did not have to wait long for Cordy and Judith to return, though it was long enough for the sun to fully set and turn the garden dark blue in the twilight.

"Have you found Will?" Judith asked before Angel could say anything.

"No," Angel said, "I was waiting for—"

"Why on earth would you wait for us? It's  _him_  we need to find, not me!"

"R-right," Angel said, and shared a brief look with Cordy before following Judith up the stairs toward the lobby door.

She burst through both doors at the same time; Angel caught the door before it swung back into his face and almost didn't notice that Judith had suddenly stopped cold. And then she drew in a shuddering gasp. And then she screamed.

Angel looked, and a sharp pain of terror caught in his throat; Cordy stifled a yell. Angel tried to reach out and grab Judith before she ran over to William's bloody, shredded body in the middle of the lobby floor, but he was too late. By the time he and Cordy fell to the floor on either side of her, her sage-green dress was already smeared with William's dark blood as she clutched him tightly to her.

Angel didn't need double-check that William was really dead—he just knew. His senses sharpened, and he took quick cold note of the situation:

1\. William unequivocally dead.

2\. Calder was not in the room.

3\. Nothing else was, either.

4\. They were all safe for a moment.

And then the heat of emotion came and Angel fell backward, away from the wailing Judith and the body. He pushed himself back, though he didn't really care if anyone else could hear how ragged his breathing was. The sharpness in his throat cut at him. A hot tear pricked his eye.

Cordy was there. She held him like he'd needed her to hold him when Quor-toth closed behind Connor. Her own cheek was wet against his forehead, but he thought it was less for William's sake than it was for Judith's, who was crying out with unabashed, raw grief, "It's not supposed to be this way, Will! It's not supposed to happen like this…"

The pain of losing a child is one beyond words; for those watching it is often more heartbreaking than the death itself. That's what Angelus had loved most about it.

After a while, Judith would become catatonic, Angel knew. They couldn't stay here and wait for that to happen; they had to go. He had to find Calder.

And suddenly, that was the most important thing in the world. He forced himself to stop breathing and pulled away from Cordy. He stood up. "I'm going to go find Calder," he told her quietly. He glanced at Judith. "Make sure she's…"

Cordy nodded, and Angel left.

He wandered the first floor halls as familiarly and without thought as if he'd never left. He turned his attention to his cold senses again and found Calder trembling and hugging his knees in a dark corner shortly thereafter.

"A-Angel?" he quivered, glancing up as Angel approached.

"Yeah, Calder. We're here. We're bringing you home."

There was a long moment of silence, and then without a word Calder leaped up and embraced Angel. Angel stood stiffly for a second, and then let his hands tentatively rest around Calder's quaking back.

"It just came at us!" Calder sobbed.

"The Thessulac?" Angel asked.

"No," Calder pulled back, straightening up and wiping his eyes hurriedly.

No, of course it wouldn't be the Thessulac, Angel suddenly realized. It fed on fear, not corpses. There must be something else here. Angel's stomach lurched. He'd left Judith and Cordy alone.

"What was it?" Angel demanded.

Calder shook his head, now wiping his nose. "I don't know. It was big and dark. It hid in the shadows. We didn't see it coming."

Angel turned away quickly. "Come on," he said. "We need to get back to the lobby."

Calder kept up with Angel's quick pace down the halls, and when they returned Angel let out a sigh of relief. Judith and Cordy were fine…well, they hadn't been attacked. Judith had even stopped crying. He heard Calder vomit in the plants behind him at the sight of William's body in Judith's arms and all the blood covering them both.

"We need to leave," Angel announced. The women glanced up at him. Judith's eyes were red, but oddly dry. "It's not safe here."

"Come on, Angel, the earthquake wasn't  _that_  bad," Cordy said.

Angel stared at her. "What earthquake?" he asked.

"Angel, please," Cordy said in her best stop-messing-around-you're-making-me-nervous voice.

"Cordy, I didn't feel an earthquake!"

"Well we did! Look, it knocked that lamp over!"

A floor lamp by the stairs was indeed lying on the ground, its bulb smashed and pieces of glass spilling out from the shade like blood. Angel glanced at Calder. He remembered something about this…something very odd.

"We need to get out of here," Angel repeated.

"No," Judith said, laying the body gently on the floor. She stood up carefully, William's blood trailing down her legs. "We have to find my son."

Angel swallowed and glanced at Cordy, who shrugged her shoulders with a sad I-don't-know-what-got-into-her expression.

"Judith…" Angel said gently.

"That's not William," Judith said, glancing down at the body. "I would know my own son, Angel. That's not him."

Angel took a few tentative steps toward Judith and thought about reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder, but decided not to. He spoke quietly, "Judith, I can smell him. That's William."

Judith looked Angel in the eye. "No," she said firmly. "It's not. Don't you think a parent would know her own son, Angel?"

Angel opened his mouth, but he didn't know what to say. He looked down at Cordy for help, who was still kneeling by the body. She stood up and touched Judith's elbow.

"Judith, let me take him back," Cordy said. "Let me take him home."

Judith glanced at her and pointed to the body. "Take that wherever you wish. That's not my son."

"Cordy, take the boys," Angel said. "Maybe by the time you come back…"

"You won't convince me otherwise," Judith said.

Angel shared a glance with Cordy, and she nodded.

"Calder," Cordelia said, holding out a hand.

Calder approached cautiously, staring hard at William's body.

"Calder," Cordelia repeated, twitching her fingers.

"No, wait just a minute. Please." Calder knelt down beside William. He gingerly stretched his hand out and touched the dead fingers.

"Calder, now it not the time," Angel said with mild exasperation.

"Angel," Cordy said, "let him have his moment."

"There isn't time," Angel said. "There's something here, Cordy… Something beside the Thessulac."

Cordy's mouth opened in surprise. "Something  _else_? Like what kind of something else? What did you know about this?"

"Nothing!" Angel said. "Calder says it's been following them. So I'm thinking…"

"It's the thing that sent them here in the first place?" Cordy finished.

"Yeah."

Judith looked at Cordelia. "Take Calder home," she said. "Angel and I need to find William before this other thing does."

"Judith," Angel said sharply. "William is gone." Judith flinched. "I'm sorry. I  _really_  am. I know how much it…" He swallowed. "Turn on his Palm. I'll show you."

"What?" Cordy asked.

Angel knelt down and picked up William's left wrist to check the Palm bracelet. "If people can afford the implant, when the owner of a Palm dies, it automatically brings up their Last Will and notifies the immediate family members." The bracelet wasn't on his wrist, though. That was strange. Angel started feeling William's pockets for the device itself.

"How does it know?"

"It's…a thing with a chip and…I don't know. Magic," Angel said. "I can't find it."

"Upstairs," Calder said softly, still holding William's hand. "The bracelet broke and we came back for the actual thing… He's getting cold."

"You could have said that earlier," Angel muttered as he stood up, wiping his bloody hands on his pants. "Fine, then, let's see your Palm, Judith."

"I left it at your flat," she said. "I didn't think I'd need it in 1952."

Angel sighed. "Alright. Cordy, take Calder and William back. Judith and I will find William's Palm."

Cordy nodded. "I'll be back soon." She held out her hand again for Calder.

Calder frowned. "You're sure you can carry both of us at the same time? Will's a d…" He stopped, but it was clear to everyone that he had been about to use the term "dead weight."

"Take Calder first," Judith said. "We'll go find William."

Cordelia looked at Angel again, who nodded for her to go ahead, and she bent down and took Calder's hand as he let go of William. "I'll be fast." And then they were gone.

"Come on," Angel said, gently taking Judith's elbow and pulling her away. She followed without a backward glance. Angel, however,  _did_  look back as they approached the stairs, and he caught sight of the noose hanging still from the ceiling. He said quietly to her,

"Stay very close. There are a lot of monsters in this hotel tonight."

It was easy to find the boys' room: not only was their trail fresh to follow, but Angel remembered their room number from when he followed them to investigate the shadow they'd seen. He would not let himself think about any of the dozens of What-Ifs that cropped up then at the flood of memories starting to come back. He needed to stay in the moment, not the imaginary past world of What-If-He-Hadn't-Left-Them-Under-That-Bridge?, among so many others.

Angel pushed the door open. The lights were still on. He scanned every corner of the room quickly before leading Judith inside. Finding William's Palm was easy: Angel strode over to the nightstand to pick it up. He turned it on. The welcome screen flashed briefly and then an icon in the corner blinked that it couldn't find service.

"Hmm," Judith said from over his shoulder, and Angel jumped slightly. "No Last Will and Testament… What do you make of that?"

Angel frowned at her. "It's malfunctioning," he said.

"They don't malfunction," Judith said. "It doesn't need a satellite to work; just a 10-mile proximity to the chip."

Angel knew that, of course, but it was the only way he could explain it. He turned the device off, pushing it into his pocket, and faced Judith. "Let me tell you something about vampires, Judith," he said as patiently as he could. "We know life and death. We  _are_ life and death. We live by killing others, and I have been around enough death in my lifetime to know when someone is gone. William," he repeated, "is dead."

Judith narrowed her eyes at him. "You may know death, Angel, but  _I_  am a parent, and  _I know my son_. Whatever was down there is not him."

"That's because he isn't  _in_  there anymore," Angel said. "You don't recognize him because his soul is  _gone_ , which, incidentally, I also know something about. I have senses you don't, Judith, and I may not be his father, but I know William well enough to pick his scent out of a roomful of hundreds of people. What I smelled down there was  _him_ : it was bitter like winds in a thunderstorm, sweet like thyme, and potent with a courage you don't even know he  _has_. Just before he died, he was afraid: the air around him was tangy and…" he paused very briefly to find the right word, " _solitary_. Like he was afraid because he was alone; exactly the way he used to smell after his father left." A tear slid down Judith's cheek. "That's  _not_  something you can easily fake, Judith."

She swallowed and said with a shaking voice, "But you  _can_  fake it?"

Angel opened his mouth, but hesitated.

"Angel, please," Judith said. "I know you know what I'm going through, and I know what this looks like. But I've lost other people, too…" She drew in a shuddering breath and her voice broke as she said, "I am  _intimately_  familiar with denial and guilt and what they can drive a person to do and believe. In spite of that, I believe that my son is alive and I need you to humor me for just a moment. Can human scents be faked?"

Angel stared at her a moment, and then sighed. "Maybe. But why would someone do it? How would they know when and where we'd be coming for him? It's too convoluted." He paused. "Judith:  _you have to let him go_."

Judith thought about his words for a moment. "Lorne told me that, too," she said finally. "He said I'd already lost William, and that I need to let him go to get him back." She looked into Angel's eyes. "I've done that. I felt his body, I'm covered in his blood, and you know what? I am  _done_  believing that it's him because worst fears are  _always_  easiest to believe. It's time for me to get him back. Are you going to help me find him or not?"

Angel frowned. He strode slowly by her, thinking as he paced the room. A moment later, he turned to face her.

"What was that you said about worst fears?"

* * *

William and Calder made it to the hotel just after sunset, their hearts pounding with anticipation.

"We're crazy, we're mad, we're completely—"

"Cal! Stop it! You're making me nervous!"

"Don't  _you_ think we're—?"

"Yes, of course I do, but what choice do we have? We'll just stay in the lobby, where it's brightest. Maybe up against one of the walls…"

They glanced at each other and nodded in resolve.

"After you," Calder gestured to the door.

William stepped up determinedly and reached for the door handle. But he couldn't take it. William frowned.

Calder sighed. "Okay,  _I'll_  go first." He tried to take the door handle, too, but his hand bounced off something invisible. "What the…?"

They looked at each other again. Then William started feeling the area around the door and Calder followed suit. No matter where they pressed, their hands could not push through whatever large invisible barrier was now around the Hyperion.

"Did the Thessulac do this?" William asked.

Calder backed away, staring up at the building's height. "I don't know…"

"Hey Cal," William said, squinting through the frosted glass. "There are people in there…"

"Let's find a window," Calder said. Then he added nervously, "One that lets lots of light through…"

They pushed their way through the bushes along the outside wall until they came to the first window they could find, which must have been along one of the staircases inside because it was set too high off the ground for them to see into.

"Let me up on your shoulders," William said.

"Right." Calder knelt down and William awkwardly swung his legs over Calder's shoulders, like they'd done so many times as kids in the pool—except that was years ago and now there was no water to support them.

"Okay," William said when he was ready, and they both held onto the wall as Calder heaved them shakily up. "Perfect!" William said, gripping onto the window ledge. "Hold sti—HEY!"

"What?" Calder asked frantically. "What?"

" _Mum!_ " William called, trying to bang on the glass, but the invisible barrier apparently included window entryways, too.

"She's here?" Calder said, suddenly so elated he forgot about William's weight.

"What is she doing?" William said, trying to peer through the banister and plants. "Who's that she's got?  _Mum!_ " He banged again, but no luck.

"Is Angel there?"

"No, but Cordelia is. I think that's her anyway.  _HEY!_ " He threw his fist against the barrier in a last-ditch effort.

"Shut up, Will, you'll draw the shadow thing right to us."

As if on cue, the earth began to rumble and shake beneath them again, this time giving such a violent lurch that Calder lost his balance and they both fell backwards. William cried out and landed with a painful crunching of branches into the tall bushes behind them before crashing to the ground. He swore quietly as he pushed himself gingerly up.

"Get out your Palm, Cal," he said. "It'll be here soon."


	17. Chapter 17

Calder's flashlight was just strong enough to keep the Shadow at least a dozen feet away from them, but not much more. Their first instinct was to hide in the darkness of the bushes and make a stealthy escape; an instinct they had to fight hard against. The light from Calder's Palm trembled in William's hand and Calder held their only dagger poised in the air, ready for the moment the Shadow decided to attack. Neither were convinced that with the Shadow's growing strength and mass (it was definitely taller than them now and seemed quite a bit thicker than when they'd trapped it under the bridge) that their weapons would be of much help in the end. They backed away along the wall of the Hyperion and the Shadow stalked toward them, only somewhat wary of their weapons.

And then Calder's battery died.

Calder let out a fluent string of curses, to which William also contributed some colorful commentary. Then they ran.

"Cal! We need a strong light! Think!"

"Oh, you don't mean something like the flashlight from _your_ Palm, do you?" Calder retorted. They emerged from the bushes and rounded the corner on the sidewalk; the Shadow's footsteps crunched on tiny branches behind them. "Brilliant of you to leave it behind, wasn't it?"

At that moment, a flood light above them on the side of the building turned on and they screeched to a halt. The Shadow stopped at the edge of the light and shifted around, testing the perimeter as if one spot of light might be weaker than the next.

"That's convenient," Calder commented, panting.

The Shadow experimentally stepped a clawed toe across the line of light. It flickered and the Shadow shuddered, but it did not disappear.

"Or not…" William said. "We need a way to get inside the hotel; we'll never make it to the next open store."

They both glanced wildly around. This side of the building was bare of bushes, but the hotel rooms had windows. They banged on each one within the circle of strong light, and Calder even tried using his sharp dagger on them, but the invisible barrier would not relent. The shops across the street were all dark. Calder collapsed against the wall and slid down in despair. William stopped banging on the last window. The Shadow had managed to push three claws—or talons, more like—into the circle of light.

Suddenly, Calder sat up straight. "Uh, Will? I have terrible idea that probably won't work."

"What?"

Calder stood slowly and took a few steps forward. Then, he raised his arm and pointed to a sewer cover in the road near the edge of the floodlight's glow. William stared at Calder.

"Like I said…"

The shadow pressed its entire bird-like foot into the light.

"Do you remember how to get into the basement from the sewers?" William asked.

"How hard can it be? The building is right here."

"Do you suppose the barrier is around the entrance down there, too?"

Calder shrugged. William swallowed.

The Shadow's lower leg was in the circle now, wispy and weak, but the Shadow was gaining bravado. What were their other options?

"Okay," William said. "Let's go."

As soon as the Shadow saw them move toward the sewer cover in the road, it pulled back into the darkness and was pacing the line of light nearest them by the time William and Calder had knelt down to heave the cover off.

"Stay low," William warned. "Keep our shadows away from edge or it can come right to us."

Calder stowed his dagger and stuck his fingers into the cover holes with a grimace and heaved. Why did these things have to be so heavy? The cover scraped against the pavement with a metallic groan until Calder had pulled it far enough off the hole for them to slip through.

"You go first," William said.

Calder didn't need to be told twice. He slipped into the opening and down the ladder as quickly as he could.

The Shadow pushed its leg into the light again and William swallowed nervously. It was close enough to grab him as he slid into the hole, but was it fast enough?

"Will, hurry up!" Calder called, and William took a deep breath. He launched himself at the hole feet-first; the Shadow lashed out at him, but William had already slipped through and landed painfully on the wet concrete below.

"Careful," he said as Calder hurried back up the ladder to pull the cover over the hole. He stood up gingerly as the cover scraped again above him, the sound echoing in the dark tunnels.

"Ah!" Calder cried suddenly, and William looked up. "It got me…" Calder held his hand in the sliver of light that remained and William could see the redness of an open cut on Calder's hand.

"You okay?" William asked.

"Yeah," Calder shook his hand out and pulled the cover the rest of the way over the opening; now the only light came in streaming rods through the holes that Calder had used to pull it up. He started to climb back down. "It's gotten pretty solid…" He jumped the last few rungs. "Are you okay? That's a long fall…"

"I think so. I didn't break anything, anyway. Ankle hurts, though."

The Shadow _tap, tap, tapped_ on the sewer cover and they both jumped.

"Let's go…" William said, to which Calder quickly agreed. The tunnel they were in ran along the street rather than toward the Hyperion, so they picked a direction at random and followed it as quickly as they could, William limping slightly as they felt the curved walls in the darkness. Calder pulled out his dagger again. Water dripped from the ceiling and the echoes of the Shadow tapping at the cover seemed to resonate in their spines; they shivered thoroughly. Rats squeaked at their feet, which slid on growing algae, and the air reeked of a pungent foulness that they didn't want to know the source of.

"There isn't another tunnel, Will," Calder nervously said after a minute. "We need to turn toward the hotel…"

"You think we went the wrong way?"

Calder was quiet a minute as he listened to the sounds of the Shadow, now quietly scratching rather than tapping. "I don't know. We just need to turn soon."

William let out a shaky breath. The scratching turned to the scraping of the heavy metal lid on pavement; short bursts of sound like a Morse code warning that the Shadow would soon be streaking through the pitch-black tunnels toward them, and they, literally, would not be able to see it coming. They sped up, hoping their blind feet wouldn't hit something unexpected.

"Here!" Calder cried a little too loudly as his hands gave way to an opening in the tunnel. The scraping became faster. William fumbled to find Calder to follow him down the new tunnel, splashing noisily through a puddle that soaked his socks. They could see the faint light from another sewer cover up ahead and they stumbled toward it like lost desert-wanderers toward water. The scraping reverberated as fast as their heartbeats in their ears.

"We need to turn again," William said as a car rumbled over them. "We've just gone down the next street."

Then, the scraping stopped. William and Calder froze. They glanced at each other wide-eyed in the dim light, their ragged breathing now the only sounds in the tunnel.

"Oh, shit," Calder whimpered.

The Shadow was in the sewer.

* * *

"What was that you said about worst fears?"

Judith stared at Angel a moment, trying to remember exactly what she _had_ said about worst fears. She opened her mouth to respond, but a sudden noise came from the bathroom and made her stop.

It was soft and stuttering—like sobbing. Angel frowned and turned toward the bathroom. Glancing quickly back at Judith, he cautiously approached the door to the bathroom and peered inside. Torn between curiosity and fear, Judith slowly followed him. By the time she reached the doorway, Angel had flicked on the light and gone the whole way in the bathroom to a figure sitting against the wall and shaking with sobs.

"Hey, it's okay," Angel said softly, kneeling down to console the woman—for it was definitely a woman even though Angel was blocking her face. "Just don't listen to it. Whatever it's telling you…" Angel shifted his weight and Judith was able to see the woman clearly.

Her whole body clenched in shock and she drew in a sharp gasp. Angel looked up as Judith's knees gave way and he reached her just in time to catch her from hitting the ground.

The woman stopped sobbing and she fixed Judith with a hard glare. "Jumie?"

Angel looked from one woman to the other, supporting Judith's weight entirely. "What?" he asked.

Judith swallowed painfully. "It's not possible," she whispered, gripping Angel's arm as hard as she tried to maintain her grip on reality. "She died. So long ago."

Angel glanced at the woman on the floor. "That's not…?"

"Evie," Judith said.

Evie stood up. Her hair, once a short and baby-soft auburn that bounced with vitality, hung limp and matted with dried blood against her head. Her scarred skin seemed to burn, not with surging of life she used to have, but with a stagnant anger and hatred. It reached her eyes, which looked eternally dead despite the angry living flame. Her clothes clung to her body with sweat—at least, that of her clothes which weren't scorched away. The air smelled of burning flesh; Judith thought she might be sick from it.

Evie narrowed her eyes with a gaze as sharp as hot needles. "You're not dead."

Judith shook her head. "No," she said softly, her throat as dry as Evie's sounded.

"Shame. I guess I'll have to wait a little longer for you. I was looking forward to sitting with you and having scorched pepper tea with burnt biscuits on our luxurious sofas of hot coals as you tell me all about the happy life you led with your beautiful son and your adorable fat grandchildren and your nice little circle of rich, sophisticated friends… You know," Evie took a few steps forward and Angel pulled Judith back. "The life I never got a chance to lead. God," Evie spat in disgust, "I can't believe I was going to middle name my daughter after you."

Judith took a shaky breath and tested the strength of her legs. She could stand on her own, and Angel let her go, but stayed close just in case. "Sofas of hot coals?" she repeated weakly. "So you're not…?"

"In heaven?" Evie finished. "Did you really think either of us would be?" Evie glanced down at her burning body. "This isn't from the fire, Jumie. Not _all_ of it, anyway." She glanced back up. "Your parents were right after all. Never thought I would admit it, but…I submit as evidence." She held out her arms; her skin glowing like live charcoal where it wasn't already blackened beyond recognition. Judith's stomach swirled so violently with nausea that she felt it in her chest, as if her lungs wanted to vomit, too. She put a hand to her mouth.

"Heaven is only for the elite, Judith. You and I would never make it. Not with the things we used to do together…"

Judith trembled; she barely registered Angel's supportive arm around her again.

"Judith," he said quietly. "We need to go."

"I blame you, you know," Evie said. "For this." She gestured down at her burned body, the scars in the shape of flames and horns. Evie looked at Judith again. " _Forget the exam,_ you said." Angel started to gently push Judith toward the bathroom door. Evie raised her voice. " _In a few months we won't care what grade we got, but this…_ " They were in the bedroom and Judith couldn't see Evie anymore, but her voice called out clearly after them. " _We'll remember this day_ _forever_ _!_ "

Angel slammed the hotel room door behind them and let Judith gently sink to the floor in sobs. He cupped her face, dripping with tears, in one hand and turned her toward him.

"Judith," he said firmly. "Judith, listen to me: that wasn't her, alright? That wasn't her, just like it wasn't William downstairs. You were right. It's the Thessulac—the paranoia demon—he's feeding you your worst fears. What Evie said wasn't true."

"It was," Judith could barely get enough air in her lungs to speak; sharp pains sliced from her throat all the way down to the depths of her gut. "That's what I told her the day that…"

"Not that, Judith. The Thessulac can read your mind, it knows what you said. But it doesn't know about hell. I do, and it's not like that."

Judith looked at him in the eye and Angel let his hand drop.

"Heaven is not just for the elite," he said quietly. "It's hell that's for the elite…the evil elite."

Judith wiped her tears and took several deep breaths. She felt her self-control inching back and latched onto it. Her breathing slowed and her rational mind began to return.

"Judith," Angel asked after a minute, "would Evie ever say those things to you?"

Judith dropped her gaze and slowly shook her head. "No," she said eventually. "Never." She let out a sharp sigh and looked up again. "I'm done with this," she said. "Let's leave this godforsaken building."

Several loud gunshots sounded from the floor below them and they both jumped. "Good idea," Angel said, helping her quickly up. "Oh, but one thing first…"

Judith looked at him.

" _Jumie_?" Angel asked.

Judith let out a short laugh and a small smile. "A nickname. Only she ever called me that. It was a merging of my first and middle name: Judith Marie. It never caught on with anyone else. Thank goodness."

Angel gave her a small smile and nodded once. "Let's go," he said, and led the way toward the stairs. Judith took an extra minute to wipe her eyes (and nose, discreetly), and then went to follow Angel.

The only trouble was: he was gone.

* * *

William and Calder could hear the Shadow coming for them; heavy, corporeal. It shuffled slowly, listening for them, its talons clicking on the concrete floor like cracking joints. They stepped backward toward the faint light of the sewer cover as quietly as they could, though William was sure that their breathing sounded more like gusts of wind, carrying their location right to the creature.

When it turned the corner and stared down the tunnel, they could see its blood-red eyes glowing like searchlights at them. They each gulped down a painful lump of fear in their throats and stopped. Their hearts pounded in their ears and William let out a small whimper. He raised his fists.

"Will," Calder said in a trembling voice. "Go and find us a way into the hotel. I'll hold this thing off."

"Are you crazy?" William hissed. The Shadow began to move toward them and they backed away carefully, not letting the eerie glowing eyes out of sight.

"I have the dagger," Calder said. "You don't have anything."

"I have my fists."

"Will, we can't see a damn thing down here. I'm just as likely to stab _you_ with this knife as that Shadow."

William swallowed. He couldn't refute that. He could barely see his own fists.

"Go on, find us a way in. Just…be sure to come back for me."

William trembled as they stepped farther back toward the light. He reached for Calder's shoulder, missing the first few times and hitting open air, and said, "Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Yell for me if you need me."

Then he turned, tripping slightly over his own feet and wincing at the pain in his ankle, and hurried off down the tunnel. Calder said something to the Shadow, trying to keep it distracted, but William was so focused on finding his way that he didn't listen. He passed the light from the holes in the lid above quickly, feeling the wall closest to the Hyperion. His heart sank with each moment that passed in which his hands found solid wall.

And then, after what seemed like forever, the wall gave way to an opening. William let out a soft cry of joy. He turned back to look at Calder briefly before following the tunnel. Calder's back was outlined in the light from above and the red eyes of the Shadow glowed beyond him. The dagger glimmered softly and then William left, knowing that if he saw the creature attack he wouldn't be able to not go back and help his best friend.

It was not long until the sounds of fighting started. William swallowed and forced himself forward. This tunnel was the darkest one yet, which made his heart jump in the tiniest glimmer of hope: the tunnel _would_ be darkest underneath a building. There was a ladder somewhere in the wall that Angel had led them up the previous night. William felt the damp wall frantically, wincing at every thud, grunt, and cry from behind him, until he finally found it.

"Yes!" he shouted joyfully, and climbed up the ladder with one arm extended upward to feel for the grate. He shove it aside with a clang and stepped up another rung—he was sure to find something he could use as a weapon in the Hyperion's basement—but before he could climb any higher, something grabbed him from behind and yanked him off. He yelled in shock and hit the ground hard. A severe pain shot through his already-injured ankle and he rolled on the rough, wet ground with momentum.

Something snarled above him. William looked up, but all he could see were stars in his vision. Strong hands grabbed his shirt and pulled him up; William's ankle gave out under the sudden weight of his body, but the hands held him upright.

"It's not often I get delivery," the thing said; its breath foul in William's face. "I could get used to service like this…"

William had fought enough vampires to know that's what the thing was, but he'd never fought blind before. Echoes of Calder's own battle ricocheted off the walls past them. William pulled his fist back and aimed it at the source of the breath that smelled like rotting flesh and dried blood. His fist shredded against the vampire's sharp teeth, but the vampire, caught by surprise, fell backward, howling in pain.

William limped toward the ladder, whimpering at the pain of his swelling ankle and bleeding hand. He found the ladder quickly enough and gripped it for support as he kicked out with his good leg at the sound of the vampire's rustling in the darkness. His foot made contact and the vampire hit the far wall with a groan.

William took a deep breath. Angel had always taught him to use his environment as a weapon in case he was caught without one. He gripped the solid iron ladder reassuringly, and then half-hopped forward, grabbed the vampire, and flung him toward the ladder with all his might. The creature's head hit with a loud bang and it fell to the ground.

William wasted no time. Breathing hard, he heaved himself up the ladder and into the Hyperion's basement.

It didn't take him long to find the light switch at the bottom of the stairs that they had used yesterday, and he blinked in the sudden, but very welcome, light. The basement was filled with unmarked boxes, various pieces of furniture, and other odds and ends that didn't present themselves as readily useful weapons. William tore into one of the boxes, but it was filled with papers; as was the next one he opened, and the one after that. He sighed in despair: he couldn't carry a whole chair back down into the sewer.

The vampire from the sewer grunted as he pushed himself up through the hole and William whirled around to face him. Blood streamed from its mouth and a huge lump had already grown on its head from the impact of the ladder. William seized a nearby broken luggage cart and shoved it at the vampire, which tripped over the edge of the hole and fell back with a crash. It roared angrily and launched itself up at William.

Another thing Angel had taught William: use your enemy's momentum against it. At the last second, William hopped aside on his good foot and pushed the vampire as hard as he could into a pile of wood furniture behind them. The desk remained solid, but several chair legs broke off. William grabbed one, shoved it through the vampire's back, and said,

"Thanks!" before limping back to the sewer hole to help Calder.

* * *

Angel waited at the end of the hall for Judith to regain herself. When she finally looked up with clear eyes and down the hall at Angel, he straightened and waited for her to follow him. But she didn't.

Instead, she frowned, looked down the hall the other way, and said, "Angel?"

"Yeah," he replied uneasily.

Judith turned back toward Angel. "Angel?" she said a little more loudly.

"What?" Angel said.

Judith turned the other way again and started uncertainly down the hall, away from him.

"Judith!" Angel called at the same time the she called for him again. He jogged toward her and reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, but his hand went right through her.

"Judith!" he said more loudly and tried to step in front of her, but she walked through him as if he weren't there. He watched for a second in bewilderment and growing panic. Though completely unnerving, suddenly becoming a ghost wasn't one of his worst fears… Something else must be going on.

Judith called out his name once more as she rounded the corner and then stopped. "Oh, thank goodness," she said.

Angel hurried after her and also stopped as he rounded the corner. His stomach knotted.

"There you are," a version of Angel said from where he'd been leaning against the wall. "I thought I'd lost you for a second…"

Judith hurried forward.

"Judith," the real Angel said frantically. "Judith, that's not me! Judith!"

The other Angel placed a comforting hand on Judith's back to guide her forward—which was _not_ toward the stairs—and just before he turned away from Angel, he flashed a wicked grin in Angel's direction. An iron grip twisted Angel's insides.

"Oh god," he whispered.

He followed them down the hall, trying fruitlessly to get Judith to respond to him. They stopped suddenly and Angel nearly went through Judith again.

"Listen."

"What?" Judith whispered, also listening, though Angel knew there was nothing to hear.

"Something's coming," Angelus took Judith's hand and pulled her gently toward the nearest hotel room. "In here."

Judith followed without hesitation.

"No, Judith!" Angel yelled, and the door shut in his face. Someone shrieked inside. Angel cursed vehemently and kicked at the door. His foot went right through that, too. Angel was not sure if he was comforted that he could follow or not, but he went through the door anyway, trying to think about what to do through his panic.

A young woman in a night dress was yelling something about trespassing and Judith was trying to calm her down, apologizing profusely. Finally, Angelus clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Quiet," he hissed in her ear.

"I'm so sorry about this," Judith whispered, touching the woman's arm consolingly. "We'll leave soon, we promise." She turned to Angelus. "What did you hear?" she asked nervously.

"I'm not sure," Angelus replied softly, and glanced at the door. Slowly, he released the woman, who remained quiet, and made his way to the door. He pressed his ear against it, and then reached out a hand and quietly bolted the lock. "Just in case," he told the women reassuringly.

Angel tried to pick up a lamp to throw at Angelus, but his hand predictably passed through it. Angel cursed in frustration.

"We'll just wait for the danger to pass," Angelus continued. "Make sure we're completely alone…"

Judith swallowed nervously and nodded. "And then what? How are we going to find William and Calder?" Her eyes suddenly widened in realization. "Angel, what if they're still here in the building?"

Angelus did not answer right away. He glanced over at Angel and smiled. "Oh, trust me," Angelus said. "Pretty soon, they're the last thing you're going to be thinking about." He took a few steps forward, surveying the room and the situation. "But I'll have to thank them," he continued in an afterthought. "Their presence out of time is why I'm here at all." He grinned. "The worlds are merging, you see. Some things are here that don't belong, and others," he glanced briefly at Angel, "are disappearing for good."

Judith slowly folded her arms across her chest. "What do you mean?"

Angel could smell her prickling fear rising, and his own stomach tightened. They didn't have much time. A plan, he needed a plan. He needed to _do_ something.

"I mean," Angelus took a few more predatory steps forward and stopped beside the woman in the nightdress, "that pretty soon it'll just be you and me, baby, and your son is the last thing you should be concerned about."

Judith's breaths shook. "Angel?"

Angelus' face shifted into his vampire form. "Guess again," he smiled, and he buried his teeth into the neck of the woman before she had a chance to scream.

Angel launched himself at Angelus and crashed to the floor on the other side. He yelled out loud in frustration and slammed his fist on the ground—the one thing that seemed to be solid for him. He looked up at Angelus, who threw the woman's limp body on the bed and stalked toward Judith, her mouth open in a horrified silent scream.

"You're sick," she trembled.

"Thank you," Angelus replied.

Angel felt his rage give way to despair. It was like… Angel's eyes widened in realization. He and Angelus were reversed. Instead of the trapped demon looking out, powerless to stop himself from doing good or feeling love and compassion, it was the soul that was trapped. There was nothing he could do.

It was a revenge he _would_ exact on himself: the payback for all the lives he saved was making his soul watch as his demon killed his friends.

"You know, Judith," Angelus said, wiping at a spot of blood on his chin, "I've always thought you were interesting for a human. You have a strength of character that you like to think is unbreakable. Most people don't have that. You're almost right, but everyone is breakable eventually. Ask me how I know."

Judith's back hit the wall.

"I like breaking people, Judith. Especially people who think they can't be broken. And in my _professional_ opinion, I think you're almost there. You've come so close to that point of giving up tonight. I don't think it'll take much more until you do." He stopped in front of Judith and tenderly pushed a dark lock of tear- and sweat-soaked hair behind her ear. "But I really want to find out for myself. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Judith took several shuddering breaths. "Angel, you need to step away from me right now," she said firmly, and Angel allowed himself a small, somewhat proud smirk as he pushed himself up from the floor. At least she was trying… "Because I'm going to go find my son."

"The name's Angelus," he growled. Angelus' hand suddenly lashed out at her throat and pinned her against the wall. "And neither of us are going anywhere for a long time."

Judith tried to hit him, but Angelus caught her fist in mid-air, and he shifted out of the way of her knee just in time.

"You know," Angelus said. "I've been waiting a long time to do this. I knew you'd be a fun one to play with from that first moment you adorably threatened to kill me if I hurt your son. Oh, the things Angel came up with…"

Angel winced. Damn, he was good at lying with the truth. The thought _had_ occurred to him, of course—how much it would take to break her—but it was an idle passing thought. Not something he'd ever actually considered doing. He turned away and tried to move the desk chair, just in case he could. When that didn't work, he tried to pick up a pen, and then a piece of paper. He swore under his breath.

"Because you know, Judith," Angelus continued, "Angel _is_ me. The curse didn't take these evil urges away; it just made Angel feel guilty for them." He paused. "That's why the curse is so devastating: What could be worse than making someone feel guilty for something they can't help; for something they were born to be?"

Angel let out a shaky breath and crossed to room to try to pick up the ice bucket. He'd never admitted it to anyone, but that part of the curse was worse than the happiness clause. He could get pretty close to bliss without it being pure; but to know that he was wrong by nature was a hell without an escape. It was the true curse-the one that not even breaking the curse could erase. He would _always_ be evil at the core, no matter what good he did on the surface, and nothing could change that. Angel was trapped, and he always would be. He tried to pull the blanket off the bed.

Several tears slid down Judith's cheek. Angelus glanced at them and ignored the way she shrank back as he leaned in and gently kissed them. Then he straightened up very slowly, tasting the saltiness of his work appreciatively; as though sampling a drop of the best wine from his own vineyard.

"That's why," he continued, "and Angel would agree with me on this—you should _never_ trust him. The temptation for this kind of joy is _always_ there. You should hear some of the thoughts that run through his head about you guys…" He paused. "You think _I'm_ sick? _He_ has a soul."

Judith's head suddenly jerked up and Angel turned away from her. There was nothing he could say to that, even if he had the opportunity.

"Yes…" Judith said slowly. "He does have a soul. One that he struggles with… One that he fears losing control of probably more than I do."

Angel froze and turned back. Angelus shifted nervously.

"Where is the real Angel?" Judith demanded.

Of course… Angel hurried over to her, hope starting to rekindle. "I'm here, Judith," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Angelus smiled. "I _am_ the real—"

"No," Judith said. "I don't know if this is one of my worst fears or his, but you're an illusion, and you can't hurt me."

Angel and Angelus smiled at the same time.

"Want to bet?" Angelus said. He suddenly yanked her forward by the back of the neck and bit down hard.

She cried out loud in pain, but Angel knew what to do now. He pulled Angelus off Judith, and hurled him across the room, where he rolled off the now-empty and perfectly-made bed and crashed to the floor.

"Angel?" Judith looked at him, gripping a hand to the wound on her neck.

"I've got it now," he replied. "Thanks."

Angelus stumbled to his feet and had just enough time to regain his balance before Angel grabbed him by the shirt and rammed him into the wall. Angelus laughed.

"What do you think you're doing, Angel?" he asked as Angel roughly took hold of each of his hands. "Do you think we're going to kiss and make up?"

Angel chuckled lowly and pushed Angelus' hands up against the wall by his head and gripped hard enough that they started to glow. Angel leaned his weight into their hands so that Angelus couldn't escape, though he didn't seem to be trying to.

Angelus laughed again as the glow grew brighter. "You won't be able to keep me under control forever, Angel. I'll be back, even if our soul is still around." He leaned forward and kissed Angel's forehead as the light grew bright enough to consume him. When it flashed out, Angelus was gone.

Angel leaned heavily against the wall for several quiet moments while this time Judith waited for Angel to regain himself—which in this context was a bit more literal of a phrase than usual.

There was a sudden crash in the lobby and Angel looked up, listening hard.

"That's William's voice," he said. He turned to Judith and they stared at each other for a moment. Then they rushed for the door.


	18. Chapter 18

"I found it, Cal!" William called from the ladder. He jumped the last several rungs and landed on his good ankle. Running as fast as he could with the wall for support, he yelled, "Down here! It's close!" William rounded the corner and stopped to take in the situation.

Calder was clinging with one arm onto the ladder under the feeble light from above, slashing with his dagger at the dark Shadow. In his other hand, Calder held one of the Shadow's talons. William smiled.

"You're timing," Calder panted, "couldn't be better."

William rushed forward, his ankle giving way with searing pain in each step, and raised the sharp chair leg above his head. His sudden, fierce yell startled the Shadow for an instant, and it froze long enough for Calder to hop down and start to stumble down the tunnel. William threw the chair leg with all his might like a javelin. He couldn't see to aim, but any injury would suffice for now. The Shadow shrieked, and William retreated.

"Take the next right," he told Calder as he felt his way forward. "You'll see the li—"

"There!" Calder cried. "Thank god!"

They ran as fast as they could along the tunnel, the Shadow in close pursuit.

They stopped at the ladder. "Here," Calder handed William the talon and started climbing up. William took up an unbalanced fighting stance and waited for the Shadow to reach them. It stopped just short of the light from the basement, which was not strong, and Calder frequently cast William in complete darkness as he blocked the light. Nevertheless, the Shadow tested itself in the light and found that it did not fade at all.

William was ready for the Shadow's broad swipe of its remaining talons. He ducked at the same time that Calder moved out of the way of the light; the Shadow's feathery arm sliced through the golden air and slammed into the iron ladder. The Shadow howled with pain.

William stood up, thrust his talon into the Shadow's arm, which retracted instantly, and began hauling himself up the ladder, slipping on the blood that the vampire had dripped all over the metal rungs. Calder bent over to help pull William into the basement. There was a roar, and as Calder gave one final pull, one of the Shadow's talons grazed William's good leg and he cried out in pain. Calder hacked wildly into the darkness at the Shadow, but it had pulled back.

"The grate," William panted, and Calder slammed the grate back over the hole and glanced wildly around for something heavy to throw on top of it.

"The boxes are full of papers…"

Calder quickly threw some boxes over the grate, and then knelt down beside William to look at the gash in his leg.

"It's not too deep," Calder commented.

"It burns," William said between gasps.

"We'll wash it out," Calder said. The boxes jolted suddenly as the Shadow pounded at the grate from underneath. "Let's get upstairs."

"My ankle," William said, pointing to his other leg.

Calder cursed when he noticed how swollen it had gotten. "Why do you do this to yourself, Will? Come on, I'll help you. Where's the talon I gave you?"

The boxes jolted again and the grate banged loudly.

"Gave it back to the Shadow," William said, accepting Calder's outstretched hand.

"Well there has to be something you can use in here…" Calder looked around, spotted the pile of broken furniture, and went to pick out a piece, saying something about how this wasn't creepy or convenient to find at all…

"Vampire followed me," William explained.

There was a loud _bang_ , and the boxes suddenly flew off the grate; William managed to avoid them, but one hit Calder square in the back and sent him hurtling into the solid wood desk and sharp pieces of chair. The metal grate clanged on the floor and one of the Shadow's hands appeared.

"Cal!" William cried. He limped over to Calder and another dark hand appeared from the hole. William shook his best friend's slumped body.

"Cal!" he cried again, and checked his pulse and breathing. Calder was still alive; just not moving. "Come on, Cal…" William muttered anxiously, shaking Calder again. He wouldn't wake up. William seized a few pieces of chair and hurled them at the sewer hole.

The Shadow grunted, but pulled its head up into the basement. Its head swiveled like an owl to face the boys and William drew in a sharp breath.

The Shadow had an eagle's head, the color of the blackest raven, and its solid red eyes shone like fresh blood. Its beak was as curved as a crescent moon and its feathers glistened like leaves in rain. The Shadow opened its beak and hissed, revealing teeth as sharp as thorns. The beak clicked when it shut.

William glanced quickly down at Calder, tried not to think about how dead he looked, and gathered several more pieces of wood into one arm. He placed a hand gently on Calder's back, then straightened and looked at the Shadow, fully emerged from the sewer.

"Hey!" William shouted at the Shadow as loudly as he could and threw a piece of wood at its head. The Shadow recoiled slightly. "You can't hurt my best friend and expect to get away with it!"

William hobbled toward the stairs, gasping with pain and slipping in the trail of his own blood so much that he had to use his free hand to balance against the stacks of boxes and other random, unstable items on his way. A broken metal bed frame fell over under his weight and crashed into a rusty washing machine. He hurled another piece, and the Shadow stalked toward him.

William reached the stairs and backed up the first few steps, facing the Shadow. He noticed that the talon and chair leg were still sticking out of the Shadow's body. Was it even possible to kill this thing?

"You can't win," William said, more surely than he felt. He backed up several more steps. "We'll fight you until daylight, and then we're going to figure out how to get home."

The Shadow let out a breath like a gust of wind. "You have no home. There is no place for you anymore." It took the first three stairs in one fluid stride.

"We'll make a place," William said. He raised his voice to a shout. "Do you hear me? We'll _make_ a place!" William's back hit the door and he fumbled for the doorknob. It was locked. "Dammit," he whimpered.

"There is no need to fight," the Shadow said, reaching a taloned-hand out slowly toward him.

William threw his last piece of wood in the Shadow's face. It snarled and launched itself suddenly at William, who ducked. The Shadow crashed through the door and into the light from the lobby. Without hesitating, William scrambled over the Shadow, moaning at the pain in his leg and ankle, and stumbled into the middle of the lobby.

"Come and get me now!" he shouted.

The Shadow shuddered and turned its glowing red eyes onto William. It stood slowly, and made its way into bright light of the Hyperion lobby. William swallowed nervously. Now what? He was out of weapons, and if the Shadow could withstand the light, then he was out of ideas.

"Where are you going to send us?" he asked.

"Away."

"Where's 'away'?

"Elsewhere."

William sighed, holding his ground as the Shadow drew nearer more because he just didn't know what else to do than out of brave resolution. "But I don't want to _go_ 'elsewhere.' I just want to go home."

The Shadow stopped in front of William, towering over him at least twice his height, and stared down at him a moment. William stared back. And then suddenly,

"William!"

William and the Shadow turned at looked up at the top of the stairs. Angel stood there, glaring fiercely at the Shadow. And then William's mother rounded the corner.

"Will!" she cried, and ran down the stairs. Angel followed close behind, vaulting himself over the railing halfway down.

The Shadow snarled, and before William could react, it swung its arm at William's head, knocking him to the floor like a doll. Judith shrieked and Angel cried out. William didn't move; his head swam so much with nausea that he couldn't even open his eyes. He heard scuffling—his mother's shoes tapping across the floor; Angel's heavy grunts as he fought the Shadow. William wondered how Calder was doing.

There was a heavy metallic scrape from somewhere over near the stairs and something like broken glass scattering. William groaned. There were more thuds and a clatter.

"Step away, Angel," William's mother said calmly. William cracked his eyes open.

Judith stood in front of the Shadow in a stance like a soldier; a broken floor lamp with its shade missing in her hands. Angel backed away, though William couldn't understand why, and the Shadow turned its attention to Judith.

" _That_ ," Judith said with a furious calm that sent chills down William's spine, "was my _son_." And she fixed the monster with a glare so fierce, it had seconds to realize in terror the mistake it had made. She rammed the end with the broken bulb into the towering creature; its scream pierced deep into their ears. Its dark red blood splattered on her face, rivered down the rod, over her pale arms, and onto her breezy green dress; and in an instant she became the most terrifying creature in the room.

"Mum…" William said hoarsely, and Judith looked at him. "It's a shadow. We need more light."

"Like this?"

The Shadow swiveled suddenly, yanking the lamp out of Judith's hands, which clanked and screeched as it dragged across the ground until the Shadow stopped cold. Calder had stumbled into the lobby behind the Shadow. He held up a single lit match.

There was a long, silent moment while Calder and the Shadow stared at each other across the few feet between them, the warm fire's glow flickering off of Calder's sweaty, upturned face. Calder smirked. Without breaking eye contact, he flicked the match onto the Shadow's jet-black feathers. Like a candle in a dark room, the flame ignited instantly, consuming the creature and its terrified shrieks. The Shadow shriveled, collapsed, and burned into nothingness. The lamp clattered to the ground.

The lobby was silent for several moments as they stared at the charred spot on the floor, breathing hard. Finally, Angel said,

"I always wondered how the floor got burned there…"

Judith let out a deep breath, then went over to William, knelt beside him, and gathered him up in her arms, sobbing with relief. William held her tight, letting her soak up the few tears that also spilled onto his cheeks. She kissed his head repeatedly and rocked him like she never wanted to let go again; which a part of William would have been okay with.

After several moments, Judith turned her head toward Calder and called him over. Calder knelt uncertainly beside them, and both William and Judith reached out an arm and pulled him in. Judith kissed his head lightly, too, which Calder accepted graciously for a teenage boy, and William thought that he might have even been a bit grateful for the way he relaxed slightly.

After a moment, William looked up to find Angel and saw that he was at the open front door watching something out in the street. "Hey," William said softly, and Judith and Calder looked up. "Cal…the barrier's gone."

The earth groaned beneath them and started to shake again.

"But we killed it!" Calder cried as they all pulled apart to brace themselves.

"There's more," Angel said from the door. The earthquake died away again. "We need to find Cordy," he said.

They all got slowly to their feet, William and Calder wincing in pain. Calder's breath shuddered as he straightened.

"You okay?" William asked as he put an arm around his mother for support.

"My back," Calder said. "I really wrenched it. And the edge of that desk didn't help my stomach, either…"

"Need help?" Angel asked Calder as they approached the stairs to the door. Calder shook his head.

Angel held the door for them as they passed through it, when suddenly William remembered something. "My Palm…"

"I have it," Angel replied.

William squinted into the night, imagining that each innocuous shadow might be a new creature to come take them away, and said, "Turn the flashlight on… We need to—"

Someone rounded the corner into the Hyperion's courtyard entrance so suddenly they all started; Calder raised his fists.

"A little jumpy are we?" Cordy snorted, stopping in front of them. "Wow, you all look _terrible!_ "

Everyone stared at Cordelia.

She shrugged,. "What?"

"Where have you _been?_ " Angel asked.

"Oh," Cordy said. "The Powers gave me another vision as soon as I got back here. They said you'd be alright." She looked at William and Calder. "I hope the floodlight helped."

" _You_ turned that on?" Calder asked.

"You _left_ them?" Judith said.

Cordy held up her hands. "I know, I know. Like I said, the Powers thought these Champs could handle it for the time being, and they wanted me elsewhere, since I was here anyway, I guess. But it's a long story…"

"And the short version would be…?" Angel asked.

Cordelia suddenly grinned. She turned toward the street and called out, "Okay!"

A young man stepped nervously around the corner and into the courtyard.

"Angel…" Cordelia said, her grin so bright she might have just won the lottery. "Meet Dennis Pearson."

Angel's eyes grew wide and he stared at the young man. "You mean…?"

"I mean," Cordelia confirmed. "It wasn't his time to die just yet." She paused. "I thought you'd want the chance to meet him."

Angel stepped forward, staring at an increasingly uncomfortable Dennis. Finally, Angel held out his hand. Dennis took it hesitantly.

"Thank you," Angel said. "For everything you did for her—for us. I never forgot it."

"You're…welcome?" Dennis glanced around at the strange people in their odd, grimy, bloody clothes, clearly wanting nothing more than to go home to his safe, normal apartment and hide under his covers. Angel let go of his hand.

Cordy suddenly hugged Dennis and he gasped in surprise. "Yes, _thank you_ , Dennis. I never would have made it without you… You were the best—" She stopped herself. "You were the best," she finished, and finally pulled away, kissing his cheek as she passed it.

Dennis blinked at her several times. "Can… I go home now?"

Cordy smiled. "Yeah. I'll see you later. Kind of."

Dennis stared at her an extra moment before stumbling off. After he had gone a few steps, he stopped and turned. "Oh, and thanks for…" he swallowed. "Rescuing me…"

"My pleasure!" Cordy waved, and she and Angel watched Dennis go.

Eventually, Angel asked, "How long does he have?"

"A few months?" Cordy guessed.

Another earthquake rumbled briefly under them, and they turned back to the other three.

"If you're quite finished," Judith said to them, "I think it's time to leave."

"Yeah…" Cordy said slowly. "Not quite."

Judith frowned. "What do you mean?"

Cordy glanced at Judith and then Angel. "I'll take you two back, but Junior Champs 1 and 2 need to stay here to fix their little problem."

Judith stiffened beside William. "What 'little problem'?" she asked.

"The one where these shadow things won't stop coming until they've done what they came here to do."

"You mean, until they take us… 'Elsewhere'?" William gulped.

"Exactly."

"So how do we stop them?" Angel asked.

"We don't," Cordy said. "No, listen," she held up a hand at everyone's protests. "I've seen these things a million times before. They're forces of nature—literally. Like rain and sun and gravity, they exist for one purpose: to make sure the universe keeps working like it's supposed to. They already filled the hole that William and Calder left in their own time, and now they have to take them out of this time."

"But what about us?" Angel said. "We're out of our time, too."

"An agent of the Powers took you out of time. These two were forced out by beings that had no right to. The universe wasn't prepared for them to leave, so the shadows healed it over as fast as they could. You two still have your place there."

Angel crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Are Time Lords agents of the Powers?"

"Time Lords? Not that I know of. But they have their own ways of dealing with the repercussions of time travel."

There was silence for a moment while everyone let her words sink in. A sudden movement caught William's eye. "Angel…" he said, nodding toward one of the huge plants in the corner. "The flashlight."

Angel turned around and switched on the light from William's Palm in one smooth motion. He aimed it at the corner and something scattered. William swallowed.

"I still don't get why we have to let them take us," Calder said.

"Like I said," Cordy said patiently, "they'll keep coming until they finish their task. They're not the brightest things—no pun intended—being forces of nature instead of real live creatures. If I take you guys home now, more and more of them will keep coming here, looking for you. And they'll never leave. I don't know about you," she glanced at Angel. "But I would rather _not_ live in a city swarming with bird-y shadow things. I think it'd kind of scare away all our clientele before we get here."

Calder crossed his arms nervously. "How will they take us? Will it hurt?"

"I don't know," Cordy said. "Maybe."

"Where will we go?" William asked.

Cordy shrugged. "Elsewhere."

"Where is Elsewhere?" Judith asked, holding William more tightly to her.

"No idea," Cordy said. "But I'm coming with you and wherever it is, I _should_ be able to bring you back."

"Should?" Judith repeated icily.

"I _never_ give 100% guarantees," Cordy replied. There were several moments of silence. Angel scattered a few more encroaching shadows. "Look," Cordy finally said in a soft tone. "I have no idea if Elsewhere is filled with puppies and rainbows or vicious hellbeasts and flames…but I _do_ know that this is our only option, and it _should_ be fast. There and back. Like _The Hobbit_ , only with less dwarves. Probably."

William looked over at his mother—he had grown too tall to look up at her anymore. She took a deep breath and smiled sadly at him. William slid his arm off her shoulder and stood tenderly on his injured legs. He nodded once at Cordelia. Her mouth twitched in satisfaction and she looked at Calder.

"Yeah, sure," he agreed. "If we don't have a choice…"

Cordelia held out her hand. "Angel, Judith," she said softly. "I think I can take you both back at once if we have just one point of contact."

Angel took her hand, but Judith hesitated. She breathed several deep breaths for composure. When Judith looked at William then, he felt her eyes tell him that she'd never been more proud of him. It was funny…as William took in her blood-speckled face, he thought he could say the same thing of her.

Judith kissed William's forehead with all the care and attention she had, and then stepped forward, took Angel and Cordelia's hands, and turned her head to look at him again.

" _Don't_ let them take you before I get back," Cordy told them.

And then they were gone.

* * *

After Cordelia left Angel and Judith alone in Angel's dark apartment, the air hung heavy with grief and tension. Angel watched Judith for a moment, who was struggling to keep her composure.

"It should just be a minute," Angel said quietly. Judith nodded.

Angel went to turn on a lamp, preferring the old-fashioned switch to the voice activation that lights came with these days. He stood by the lamp after it turned on, unsure what to do or say, and hoping that Cordelia would be back with the boys soon. Every minute that passed pointed toward an Elsewhere of the hellbeast variety. Angel started to think that maybe he should have insisted on going with them.

"They're more than capable," Angel said after a moment. "All of them."

"I know," Judith replied through a closed throat. She forced herself to give him a small smile. "They've proven that." She sucked in a sudden breath and looked away.

They waited, both staring at nothing. The tension thickened like cold molasses: dark, bitter, and suffocating; Angel thought he even heard Judith's breathing become shallower and more labored as the silence dragged on.

He should say something to her. Comfort her, reach out a hand and somehow convey that he'd lost a son to some kind of Elsewhere, too, and that he'd come back...they just might have to wait for a while. Maybe time passed differently there. Or maybe something had attacked them, and they had to fight it off before they could regroup. Which they would do. Angel had taught all three of them well.

Because when you love someone, of course you empower them.

Angel swallowed. He wondered how much of an idiot he was for convincing himself that he'd trained William and Calder because they asked, and not because he cared.

Pretty damn idiotic, he decided.

Angel looked over at Judith. She was holding herself together well on the outside, and a part of Angel was proud of her for it. Some part of him, half hidden in shadow and with cruel intentions looking out like glowing eyes, wanted to press gently on her shell to see when it would break.

He wouldn't, obviously. Instead, he focused on the pride came from the part that cared about her, too. He wondered how long he could keep being her friend until she remembered what Angelus had said, and she would ask him how true it was, the thoughts that his vampire side had about them, like the one he'd just had. Instinct was all it was, but that would hardly be comforting.

Well, until William came back-or didn't-she wouldn't be thinking about Angel. He had a bit of time.

"Drink?" he finally asked.

Judith looked up. Her posture was dancer-straight and composed, though her eyes shone with tears that had not yet fallen. "Oh _god_ , yes," she said, and found her way to the nearest chair while Angel went to the bookshelf where he kept his favorite scotch.

Angel and Judith had drinks together at one of the nearby pubs every so often; just interesting conversation and good company, nothing more. If the conversation edged toward emotional territory, Judith would usually push her drink away, preferring her full faculties in dealing with whatever had come up, and she would frown at Angel if he did the opposite. Her frown wasn't disapproving of Angel himself, just of his method of coping. Angel didn't mind. It wasn't his normal method of coping, anyway. From what he'd seen, Judith used alcohol socially as a mild relaxant, not for escape.

It was telling, therefore, how readily she'd accepted his offer tonight.

Angel poured a shot's worth of scotch into a glass, then turned around slowly, watching her in his chair for a brief moment. Maybe she would later regret her own willingness to numb whatever she was feeling, even the little bit that a single shot would give her-with Judith, intention mattered as much as the action-but that wasn't for Angel to worry about. This was how he knew how to be a friend. It's what he would have wanted.

Angel crossed the room and handed the glass to Judith, who took it and just held it in her hand for a moment, as if preparing for it. Angel pulled his other armchair over and sat down a little off her right side. Judith took two sips to finish the whole thing and set the glass carefully on the apothecary table. She breathed slowly and deeply, gripping the armrest as tightly as she held onto her composure.

Finally, Angel spoke. "You did the right thing," he said.

Judith burst into sobs. Angel carefully took one of her hands in his while Judith's other hand went to cover her mouth.

They sat together like that for a long, long time.


	19. Chapter 19

When Cordelia returned with William and Calder, dawn was just breaking. Angel was still awake, brooding over the events of the last several days in between worrying that they hadn't yet returned, but Judith was asleep on the couch, having finally worn herself out.

The bright light from Cordelia's portal jolted them both back to the present, and it had barely closed behind Cordy before Judith was up and embracing William. Angel counted all three as alive and unhurt (except for the few injuries they'd gotten from the Shadow) and let out a long sigh of relief.

Angel pushed himself up and caught Cordy's eye. She gave him a slight smile and a nod. Angel nodded back, suddenly feeling exhausted himself, now that he was allowed to be.

" _Mum_ ," William's voice came muffled through Judith's hair, "we weren't gone that long…"

"You were gone for  _hours_ ," Angel said, stepping toward them.

William and Calder made noises of bewilderment.

"Oops," Cordelia grinned in embarrassment. "Did I overshoot? I'm kinda new at this whole time-travel thing…"

"Your aim was just fine before," Angel pointed out, a little annoyed. After putting them through the last several hours, they didn't even have a good story to excuse the time?

"Yeah, from this dimension and  _this_  time stream…"

Judith finally let William go. "So you're alright? Elsewhere wasn't some sort of hell dimension?"

William shook his head. "Not really. Just...there and back, like Cordelia said. And no dwarves."

"I saw a dragon," Calder piped up. "On one of the mountains. At least, I think it was. And seeing a dragon would be awesome, so that's what I'm calling it."

Angel asked Cordy, "What about their place here? They fit, right?"

Cordy nodded. "Should be okay, but be alert for...bad-ish stuff. It's like breaking open a recent wound: things will re-heal, but not without a bit of metaphorical blood."

Angel nodded in response, but before he could say anything, there was a sudden  _bang_  and a flash of light. Everyone jumped and Calder pulled out his dagger again with an edge of weariness. The light faded and two women—or a woman and a female demon with veiny and scarred skin—stood in the middle of Angel's living room, one with her hands on her hips and the other's arms crossed; both looking livid.

"You  _ruined_  it!" the demon screeched. "Cordelia, we had a deal! D'Hoffryn is going to  _kill_  me!"

Calder lowered his dagger as everyone glanced at Cordy.

" _You_  did this, Jem?" Cordy crossed her arms and glared at the vengeance demon. "Wait, what am I saying? Of course you did."

"It was a brilliant plan," Jem said. "One of my best jobs yet; untraceable,  _impossible_  to reverse…"

"Yeah," Cordy said. " _Great_  plan. Only next time you might wanna check and make sure your victims aren't on the PTB's list of future Champions. They were kind of pissed."

Jem straightened her shoulders haughtily. " _Untraceable_ ," she repeated. "And now what is my client supposed to do, Cordy? I can't send her home un-avenged."

Cordelia shrugged, looking at the other woman, whom Angel thought was maybe Brazilian. "Oh, I don't know, maybe she could try  _getting over it?_ " She glanced back at William and Calder. "Which one of these guys did she wish against, anyway?"

"Both of them," the Vengeance Demon replied vindictively. "That's why it was so perfect…"

The woman looked fiercer than Cordelia as she glared between William and Calder, her anger both passionate and terrifyingly deep. Angel took a tiny unconscious step back, glad that  _he_  wasn't in the boys' place.

Cordy narrowed her eyes at William and Calder. "What did you guys do to her?"

"Yes," Judith said to William. "What  _did_  you do?"

"Nothing!" William said quickly. "I don't even know who she is."

The woman snorted derisively. "Not  _yet_. But just you wait, William Thacker Cole!" Yes, her accent was Brazilian Portuguese.

William's jaw dropped and he glanced at Calder, who shrugged and grinned. "Seems like she knows you pretty well, mate…"

"And  _you_ , Calder Gabriel Lauchley!"

"Hey!" Calder cried. He shifted uncomfortably under everyone else's smirks. "Quit using our middle names!"

"Should I call you something nastier?"

Cordy held up her hands between them, "Okay, okay, look, here's how we fix this. Calder, William, take a good look at this girl and when you meet her in the future, try not to scorn her love. Okay? Problem solved."

"Not quite," Jem said. "I think my client would like to make another wish before we leave…"

Angel suddenly stepped forward and leaned in toward Cordelia. "Should I destroy her power center?"

"Give her five seconds," Cordy replied. She gestured at Angel. "You  _do_  know who this is, right?"

Jem gave them both a furious look and took the full five seconds to make up her mind. Then she thrust her hand out to the woman, who took it angrily.

Cordelia waved goodbye to them. "Maybe she could wish for some free therapy sessions," she suggested, and then they disappeared in another flash of light.

Everyone turned to look at William and Calder, who shuffled their feet abashedly. Finally, William turned to Calder and said, "So, um… Sorry in advance about her… You know, if I did anything wrong…"

Calder cleared his throat. "Yeah, mate, me too…"

William held out a hand. "Forgiven?"

Calder took it. "Totally."

"Good," Cordelia said. "That's done. Now, Angel, do you mind if I crash on your couch and sleep for a few…weeks?"

Angel smiled. "We're all tired, Cordelia. I think rest is a very good idea…"

* * *

Cordelia was still asleep in Angel's room when William returned later that night—Angel had taken the couch, knowing that he might not fall asleep anyway, and Cordy did not have to be told twice to take the much more comfortable bed. Angel let William in without a word and checked to make sure his bedroom door was securely closed before turning to William. Angel swallowed a bit nervously. After a minute, he said,

"Tea?"

William nodded and they went into the kitchen. William sat down in one of the chairs and waited for Angel to finish the tea preparations before speaking.

"So do you remember what happened?" William asked finally as Angel sat down opposite him while they waited for the water to heat.

"After the hanging?" Angel said, though he knew William wouldn't be coming to him about anything else. "Yeah. A little. It was a long time ago."

"Do you remember what you said to us?"

Angel cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Something about…using you, betraying each other… How we'd never really be friends."

"Something else about how you 'don't fucking care' about any of us…" William added stonily.

"Yeah," Angel shifted. "That, too."

"You told me to ask you why you'd ever be friends with a couple of kids." William fixed Angel with a stare more befitting a 50-year-old man than a 16-year-old boy. "You said you'd answer honestly."

Angel swallowed and glanced down at his clasped hands on the table. "I didn't choose to be your friend," Angel said eventually. "And that's why I chose to stay your friend."

William frowned. "I don't get it."

"That lady-Judy, incidentally-taught me that if I reach out to humans…even worse than them hurting me, is that I'd end up hurting them." Angel looked at William. "I became her friend, and she lived in fear and guilt every second for the rest of her life. I killed her worse than I killed most of my victims when I was evil, and the trend didn't really change with any of the other people I became friends with years later. I thought that since I wasn't trying to reach out to you, I'd hurt you less." Angel paused. "Clearly, I was wrong. And I'm sorry."

William's gaze softened a bit. "You just left us all there," he said.

"I know."

"You looked at us, and you told the Thessulac to take us all. We were going to help you get rid of it."

"…I know."

They were quiet for a moment, and then the water began to boil. Angel stood up to pour it over the loose leaves in the pot.

"You never did kill the Thessulac, did you, Angel? That was just a nice ending to the story."

"No, I did," Angel said. "Just not until fifty years later. Cordy and…some others, and I…we killed it and moved in." Angel set the pot and a few mugs out on the table and sat back down.

"Fifty  _years_?"

"I'm not proud of it," Angel said. "I was… I handled it badly."

William crossed his arms and snorted. "No kidding…"

They both stared at the teapot for a while. Finally, William said, "So is it still true? What you said about hurting people and not being friends because of what we are?"

Angel took a deep breath and poured them each a cup of tea, which neither of them touched. Finally, Angel said, "Yes and no. I've never really had any good friends that I haven't ended up hurting…"

"Who has?" William asked, and Angel looked at him. His mouth twitched in a smile.

"True. But something you should know about me is that I'm like a pendulum. There are times in my life when I decide it's worth the risk, and times when it's not. You caught me at a time when it wasn't, and since then... I've been swinging back. That probably makes me the most selfish person alive, but…"

William shrugged and took his mug in both hands. "Probably," he agreed. "But I'm glad." He took a small sip of tea and winced at the heat. They were quiet a little while longer. Finally, William said, "One more thing… That night, you also told me to ask how many things you've never told me about you…"

Angel looked away quickly.

"That much?" William asked with an icy edge.

"Yeah," Angel said after a moment. "But I'm going to fix that."

"How?"

"I'll tell you the things I should have told you a long time ago."

William shifted in his seat. "Don't do it out of guilt," he said. "That's not real."

"I'm not," Angel assured him. "I've realized a lot of stuff over the past few days. It's something I…want to do."

"Alright," William said. "Go ahead."

Angel shook his head. "Calder and your mother should be here, too. In a few days, when we've all recovered…"

William nodded and drank some more tea. After several minutes of silence, William looked up again. "Mum said you got a vision and that's how you knew where to find us."

Angel nodded. "I thought the visions were gone."

"That's not… If you remembered what happened, what you said to us, why'd you need the vision at all?"

"Oh." Angel let out a sigh. "Because I didn't remember you at the time. A lot of things happened between then and now, and quite frankly I forgot about the two kids that I knew for...what was it? Two days?" Angel shrugged the timing off. "And I was going through other things then."

"Oh," William nodded softly. "I guess that makes sense." After several more minutes, he stood up to leave. Angel stopped him when he got to the kitchen doorway, and William looked back.

"Forgive me?" Angel asked.

William nodded. "Of course," he said, and then he left.

* * *

Cordelia stayed in Angel's bed for a while after she'd woken up, dreading the next moment she'd see him. She had to go. It was a new work day, and she was already planning on lingering as long as possible as she tied up the last few loose ends.

It was William's arrival that convinced her to finally get up: she didn't have to hear the conversation to know that Angel and William were already moving on with their lives, and now she needed to, also. She listened briefly after opening the bedroom door and smiled to herself. Sometimes, Angel didn't need her to push things back on track. She left quietly.

Cordy took a cab back to her hotel room, where she packed her things and took a shower. She let the hot water run over her longer than she needed to, and took extra time drying her hair and styling it back to the wavy curls she'd had when she arrived. She checked out of her room, making sure to get a print copy of the receipt—the Powers were so  _picky_  about expensing—and left the hotel.

She stopped to see Connor on her way back to Angel's. Actually, it wasn't at all "on her way," but she had to go. He was asleep, but Cordy was glad: she could take his hand and kiss his forehead without confusing him.

"Bye Connor," she whispered; then, taking in one last look at his serene face, she left.

She went to see William next, but his mother said that he was already out patrolling for the night. Only a student of body language as astute as Cordelia would have noticed the conflicting nervousness and pride that Judith was trying to keep under control. Cordelia smiled.

"Looks like I've done my job, then," she said. She gave a little wave and a smile, and turned to go.

"Sorry," Judith said, stepping out into the hall after Cordelia. "Not to sound ungrateful, but…beyond the time travel, what did you do? It was, in the end, Angel's vision that told us where to go, and you were nowhere near when we slew the shadow."

Cordelia smiled. "Exactly. I help people get back on their paths, Judith. It doesn't work if I force it."

"So you're more of a…guide?"

Cordy nodded once and gave a slight shrug. "You could call me that." Especially now. Sometimes, Cordelia was more of a Champion. Sometimes, bad guys just needed to be stopped. But in this case, as in most cases, people needed to be saved from themselves, and Cordy had always been good at that.

"Hmm." Judith thought for a minute. "That would have been nice to know from the start. It would have saved many angry thoughts against you." Judith smiled and Cordelia returned it.

"Come on.  _No one_  likes to hear that they have to fix something themselves."

"True," Judith agreed. She paused and then said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Cordelia slowly turned to go again, and Judith added,

"Good luck."

Cordy swiveled around. "Huh?"

"You're going to say goodbye to Angel, aren't you?"

"Oh…yeah."

Judith nodded knowingly. "Good luck. And I wish you all the best."

Cordelia gave her a grateful smile. "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Of course."

Cordy waved and as she left, heard Judith door close behind her.

She did not dawdle now. She was being given a rare break between work, and now that the job-related loose ends were tied, she wouldn't have much more for personal loose ends. Memories of the night she'd left Angel at Wolfram & Hart swarmed her as she made her way down the streets back to Angel's apartment, and her mantra quickly became,  _You've done it once, you can do it again._

The trouble was, she wasn't sure she could. She'd thought about the options, of course—she'd actually  _dreamed_  about the options asleep in his room—but they were limited and all unpleasant. But hearing Angel and William talk helped make up her mind: there was no place for her in this world, and she knew it. Eventually, she would even be okay with it.

Still, Cordy knocked on Angel's door with a racing heart, which stuttered nervously when he answered. He did not look well, Cordy noted, as Angel stared at her in surprise for a minute.

"I thought you left," he finally said.

Cordelia gave him her best  _pfft_. "Like I'd leave without saying goodbye." She gave him a hesitant smile. "I went to get my things and see Conner."

"And to fix your hair," Angel noted.

"Duh." Cordy walked into the apartment and set her shoulder bag down by the wall, then turned to face him as he let the door fall shut behind her.

They stared at each other for a moment. "So," Angel said. "Are you leaving right away?"

"I have a little while," Cordy replied.

"How long?"

She took a deep breath. "An hour, at most." It was a complete guess, but it felt about right.

Angel nodded and silence fell again. "So… Do you want something to drink…or eat?"

"Both would be great," Cordy said, only just realizing that it had been more than 24 hours since she'd eaten.

Angel nodded again and slowly led the way toward the kitchen, but he'd only taken a few steps when he suddenly whirled around and said, "Don't go."

Cordelia's breath caught in her throat. "What?"

"Don't go," Angel repeated. "Stay here, with me."

Cordy fell back a few steps.  _Don't tempt me, Angel…_  "I can't," she said firmly.

"Why not?"

"It's complicated…"

"Explain."

Cordy sighed. "Angel, if I could have been with you and done my job with the Powers, I would never have left you in L.A." Angel stared at her, and Cordy let out a shaky breath. "Believe me," she said, "I want to stay. I want to have a family again, a normal social life… I want it all. What girl wouldn't?"

"I can give that to you," Angel said. "We all can."

Cordy snorted. "Have you forgotten about the curse? Because that  _is_  where this conversation—and this relationship  _would be_ —headed."

Angel shook his head. "That… It's not a problem."

Cordy crossed her arms. "What do you mean?"

Angel swallowed. "I mean… Willow made it permanent for me. After the first time in Sunnydale, I told her that if it happened again to change the curse so that nothing could take it away again. And she did."

Cordy's mouth opened in shock and for a minute she didn't know how to respond. "And you're  _just now_  telling me? What is  _with_  you and keeping secrets, Angel?"

"We were kind of preoccupied, Cordy, and it's not the kind of thing where you just say, 'Oh, by the way, guess what happened to me the other century?'"

"Why the hell not?"

"Because do you know what it  _means?_ "

"Yes," Cordy said. "Besides you now being able to have sex with whoever you want, it means that you can be blissfully happy all the time.  _And you're_ _not_." Angel flinched in surprise. "That's right. You've got it made, here, Angel: you have a nice place, lots of money, a fancy car,  _no_  sense of responsibility to speak of… You have people who love you. You have family nearby. And what do you do with all this? You  _brood_." Cordelia paused, seething, and then added quietly, "You have  _no idea_  how much I want what you have."

Angel stared at her, struggling to keep his own composure under control. "It also means that I can never live freely again," he said. "I can never live without the guilt of the choices I've made, and when I die, there isn't the slightest chance that my soul hasn't been freed first. It's going to hell, and there is nothing I can do about it; and  _I chose it to be this way_. For everyone else. For the side of good. For the fucking  _Powers That Be_. Because I thought I would be a Champion forever."

Cordy's cheeks prickled with angry tears. She quickly wiped them away. "See?" She gave a humorless half-laugh. "Aren't you glad we saved this part for last?"

Angel sighed and took a few steps forward. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want it to be this way."

"We never do," Cordy replied. "But here we are. And we've come right back to the beginning with, 'What do we do now?'"

They stared at each other, waiting for the other one to come up with something to say first. Neither of them did. Cordy took in a deep breath: she was a woman of words and Angel was a man of action, so she knew she must be the first one to say something. She prepared to just start talking, hoping that something constructive would come out, but suddenly, Angel kissed her.

Man of action, indeed.

She kissed him back, hard. She wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck, and he pulled her closer at the waist. The next few moments were bliss, but they ended as soon as she pulled away for air, as if she also sucked back in reality.

"Angel, we can't."

"Why not?" His lips brushed hers.

"Because I'm not staying."

He kissed her again and then repeated against her mouth, "Why not?"

"I told you." She pulled just far enough away that he didn't try again. "I can't do my job for the Powers and have a normal life. It's a liability."

"For who? You or them?"

Cordelia let her hands drop slowly and stepped back, her eyes narrowed at him.

"Cordy, I know you. You need people like I need blood. I can't believe they actually convinced you to live without relationships."

Cordy crossed her arms and replied softly, "Didn't they convince you to do that, too?"

Angel didn't respond right away. "So it's worth it?" he finally said.

"My complete selfish happiness for thousands of saved lives and changed destinies? Of course it's worth it, Angel, otherwise I wouldn't love what I do. And it's not like I don't have friends, or even date occasionally… _very_  occasionally. It's just…not what we used to have. With Wesley and Gunn and Fred and…everyone. And I was okay with that."

"Until?"

Cordy bit her lip. "A few days ago. But I'll be fine. With some time and distance, maybe some more missions to focus on… I'll be alright." She looked up at Angel. "And so will you. You've got people here who care about you. Don't forget that."

Angel glanced down at the floor and cleared his throat.

"This isn't forever, either."

Angel jerked his head back up.

"I don't get a lot of time off," Cordy said. "Next to none, actually; the Powers are being generous right now, not giving me another vision right away. That's number four on my list of Things I Would Change If There Were A PTB Champion's Union, right under a salary and a full wardrobe control and…anyway. Sometimes I get some time to myself. When that happens, I'll come visit."

"How often will that be?"

Cordy shrugged. "Every few years? It varies."

Angel frowned. "You only get time off every few  _years?_ "

"I get to come  _home_ , of course. Eat, shower, sleep, then it's off again. Look, the point is, I know you're alive and now I know where you live. It doesn't end here."

"Not like it ended at Wolfram & Hart?"

"You had a path to stay on. Now that you've given that up…" Angel shifted uncomfortably. "Well," Cordy continued with a small smile. "I guess there's one perk to that." She paused. "Don't wait for me, though. If there's someone else…"

"How could there be?"

"I'm just saying… Don't be closed to the idea on my account."

Angel, ever the wordsmith, just looked her.

"So," Cordy said finally. "How about that something to eat?"

Angel stared at her another moment. "That's really how you want to spend our last hour together?"

Cordy shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it  _has_  been more than a day since I've eaten anything…"

They locked eyes for a minute, and then Angel's mouth made the tiniest of smiles and he nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Judith let Angel have about a week after Cordy left to cope as he saw fit before approaching him. She wasn't sure what she'd find when she pushed open the door to the Dragon's Crown, breathing deeply in the old, rooted scents of whiskey, wood, and cigar smoke. She had never known a vampire to go through everything he had recently; she had never known a vampire at all. She didn't even know if a week was long enough, but William had gotten his answers about the new side of Angel he'd met in 1952, and Judith had several of her own that she just couldn't stand to let simmer any longer.

Angel was at his normal booth toward the back left of the establishment, talking with someone. He noticed her and they caught eyes briefly. He told her in a glance to wait just a minute, so Judith went up to the bar to get a glass of water from Marty.

It was a weeknight and a little too early for the overtly demon crowd, so Marty kept her company while she waited. He was average in just about every sense, his short brown hair not even a particularly striking shade, nor his skin anything beyond a normal Irish white. The only thing that stood out were his grey eyes, kind and soothing to match the cadence of his voice, and for that alone, Judith loved talking to him. He was letting her describe her day at work with rapt attention when Angel appeared at her side, nodding to Marty for a refill as he set his glass in front of him.

"Thank you, Marty," Judith said when Angel didn't.

Marty grinned at her. "You'll have to finish your story next time. I hope that poor girl pulls through the surgery."

"Me too," Judith smiled at him, standing to follow Angel back to his booth.

They slid into their seats and stared at their drinks in silence for a moment. Nothing this heavy had ever come up between them before. Well, they'd had a rocky start, but there hadn't been a friendship to repair at the time. There  _were_  reparations to be made now, though, so finally, Judith asked,

"How are you?"

Angel looked up at her.

After a long moment, Judith said, "Well, you're out and about. I suppose that's a good sign."

More silence.

"Angel, I came to talk to you about some things that I think are very important, but I can't do it one-sided. If you're not willing to speak, I'll try another time."

Angel took a long sip of his drink. There was a lot that Judith didn't know about Angel, but she knew him well enough by now to let him have his alcohol, if that helped him answer her questions. She didn't like that he thought he needed it, but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

"Okay," he said, looking like he was bracing for impact. The answers were going to be that bad, huh?

"The illusion of your evil self," she began. "How accurate would you say it was?"

Angel stared at her, both of them knowing that she knew the answer. "Very."

She nodded. "Then I'm sure you understand my concern now about the wisdom of my decision to let William visit you so often. Not that I can change that decision now—nor do I think I want to—but I need to know if what he said was true about the soul; that it actually does not quell whatever evil urges you might have."

Angel shifted uncomfortably. "I lie with the truth," he said.

Judith considered him a moment. "You used the first-person," she finally observed. "Is that how you see both of your selves?"

"Yes," Angel replied.

Judith thought about that for another minute before she said, "So it's true, then? The thoughts you've had about us? About me?"

Angel glanced into his glass and did not respond.

"Your silence is speaking volumes, Angel." Judith said.

"Let it," he looked up. "It's better that way."

"I beg to differ."

"Fine," he replied, and finished his scotch in one swallow. "Differ all you want."

Judith took in a slow, deep breath. "Angel, perhaps you don't understand why I am here. I came because this entire experience has raised some serious questions about you that we deserve to have answers for—for our own safety." Angel turned signal Marty for a refill. "I have to know if you're truly capable of doing what you threatened to me."

"Of  _course_  I'm capable of it," Angel said, planting his hands on the edge of the table a little harder than he probably meant to as he leaned across it; the table and empty glass shook. "I'm a vampire, Judith. I'm sorry if that's been so easy to forget."

"Fine, you're capable. But are you willing?"

Angel leaned back again, drumming his fingers against the wood agitatedly. "Let me put it this way," he said finally. "Having a soul doesn't change the fact of what I am, what I think about…and what I enjoy. The soul just adds another dimension. It lets me choose differently. It lets me love. It lets me feel guilt. But it doesn't change the fact that I am a creature born from hell. I would never willingly hurt you, Judith, or the boys. But I can't deny I've thought about it. Even in passing. It's just my nature."

Judith swallowed and nodded. "Thank you for that honesty." She paused. "Should things change now? Should I be more concerned than I am?"

"You tell me," Angel said. "The soul is permanent. The only thing that's really different is that you know a little more about my psychology. But that might be enough."

Marty arrived with Angel's refill.

Judith stared at Angel thoughtfully. After a minute, she said, "At one point, it would have been. But too much has happened and now…no, it's not quite enough. That truly is a devastating curse, Angel, and I'm sorry that you have to struggle with it. It must be painful on levels I can't even fathom."

She hesitated and stood up. His expression was a complex mix of sorrow, shame, and on top of it, bewildered relief.

"I hope we'll see you again soon, Angel. Sometimes the best way to deal with pain is to get out in the world a bit… And I think you know that this time I'm  _not_  talking about the pain of the curse."

Judith gave a small smile before she left.

* * *

Angel picked up Judith and William first in his car that evening—which was roughly a week after Judith had come to see him. Calder's place was on the complete opposite end of town from where he was taking them, but he needed the long drive to explain some things first.

He wouldn't tell them where they were going. Angel wasn't sure why; it just seemed like the way to do this.

William pleaded from the backseat to know their destination, but Angel drove silently in a way that William quickly knew it was no use.

"Can you at least tell us how far we're going?" Judith asked.

Angel glanced at her. "Not far," he said. "From you."

Judith contemplated that for a moment. "Do you think I could correctly guess it?" she asked.

Angel thought about it for a second. "Probably," he replied.

"Guess!" William cried, "Guess!"

But Judith would not guess, and they eventually pulled up to Calder's building. Calder slid in the back beside William, and Angel pulled back out into the traffic. "So where are we going?" Calder asked.

"He won't say," William replied for Angel. "But it's not far from where I live."

"Might it be," Judith said slowly, "At the far east end of town?"

Angel nodded once. "It might."

The boys moved to tap on their Palms to figure out exactly what was at the far east end of town, but Angel finally started talking.

"There are some things about my life," Angel said slowly, and the rest of the car fell into an immediate silence, "that I should have told you a long time ago." He glanced in the mirror back at the boys. They hadn't been so raptly attentive since they were children; Angel decided he would have to be mysterious more often when he wanted them to listen.

"I didn't tell you because you were kids, and the stories involved are not kid-friendly." Not even in the original gruesome fairytale kind of way. "And I didn't know, nor care to know any of you that well. But things changed. Obviously." He glanced around at all three of them, and was grateful that he had the excuse of driving not to look at them any longer.

He took a deep breath.

"What I want to tell you is a hard subject to bring up, for a lot of reasons. When I'm done, I hope you'll understand those reasons and forgive me for not telling you any of this sooner."

"Any of what?" William finally asked.

Angel swallowed. "Anything about my family. The one Cordy was a part of."

William and Calder stared at him, waiting. Judith did not stare at him, though she was just as attentive.

"I'm going to tell you the whole story," Angel said as he turned onto National Road 6, which would take them most of the way to St. Anthony's Retirement Community, "and it's going to take a long time. But first, I want you to meet someone."

"Who?" William asked breathlessly.

Angel gripped the steering wheel a bit harder with one hand, the other clenched nervously around the gear shift beside him. He took a deep, shaky breath. "Connor," he said finally. "My son."

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone!
> 
> This is not the end of the Interaction series. It was *supposed* to be the end... But I grew to love these characters too much to stop experimenting with them and I found full-blown stories in the process.
> 
> It's January 2018. Two of these stories are written and ready to go, but I think it's important that the stories be posted in order, so they're backlogged for the moment. The next story is an active WIP - I'm having a few plot and characterization issues, but it is currently a priority. Expect it soon-ish. Prod me (or shower me with kudos love) and expect it soon-er. Kudos/comment love is ff author fuel.
> 
> You may or may not have noticed that I have another series which is an Angel/Doctor Who crossover. This is also an active series which merges with this series, just to complicate things. Stories that belong to both series will be posted under both, so expect that to start happening soonish/er, too. ("War Stories" technically crosses over in the Interaction-verse but is NOT posted under both because the character focus is more on Angel and the Doctor. If you want more Interaction-verse and a Judith/William cameo, though, go read that in the meantime.)


End file.
